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Post by ColcordMama on May 17, 2012 20:12:19 GMT -7
15.
When she told Bob her plan to shop in the wee hours of the morning, he applauded her wisdom. He picked them up, along with Lucy's car seat, at 2 am and they went in Bob's big SUV to the Wal-Mart where Bonnie shopped before. It was closed this time. A handwritten sign on the door said the store was only open during daylight hours for the duration of the emergency.
"That was to be expected, given the security concerns," Bob said as they drove away. "I'm surprised they're opening at all."
In spite of the excitement of getting out, away from the apartment for a change, Bonnie was gloomy. "But I need diapers for Lucy! And I'm all out of flour and coffee and almost out of toilet paper and canned fruit! What am I going to do?"
Bob stopped for a red light and turned to look at her. She was so pretty in the night, with the glow from the streetlights coming in through the windows.
"We'll manage. We can come back after breakfast, and if we can't get what we need, we'll manage somehow. Don't worry." He paused and looked beyond her. "Bonnie? Listen to me. I want you to slip down in the seat below the level of the window, right now." His voice was quiet but firm, and without even thinking she quickly slid down in her seat.
"What's wrong?" she whispered.
"Your ex-husband just pulled up at the stop light beside the car on your side," he replied, hardly moving his mouth. He thought fast. Lucy was in her car seat behind him, and fast asleep. Nick couldn't see her from his car; he was staring straight ahead at the light and couldn't have noticed Bonnie when he came up to the stoplight. Bob slowly turned his head back to the front and watched the light, while at the same watching Nick's car with his peripheral vision. The light turned green but still Nick sat there, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel, until the car behind him beeped quickly once, then he stuck his hand out the open window, flipped a birdie, and floored it, taking off in a squeal of tires. Bob followed in his lane at a more reasonable speed, watching Nick's tail lights recede down the darkened street.
"Was that him? That was him, wasn't it? Did he see me?" Bonnie sounded anxious.
"Yes, that was him. What an idiot. No, I'm pretty sure he didn't see you or Lucy. Stay down, I'm going to follow him for a while, see where he goes. I want to know where he's holed up."
"Okay," Bonnie replied in a little voice. She laid her head on her purse on the console between the seats. Bob wanted to lay his hand on her head to reassure her, but he concentrated on his driving, watching the twin red taillights up ahead, stuck at another red light. Now a patrol car came between, turning onto their street from the left ande pulling up behind Nick's car. Bobn chuckled to himself. Nick would either be careful when the light turned green now, or if he hadn't noticed the cop, he'd be seeing the popcorn machine in his rear view mirror. This was going to be good. But Nick, ever unpredictable, made an ordinary left turn when the light changed and the patrol car continued on straight, ignoring Nick. Bob held back a little, then turned left too. Nick was just turning again half a block ahead, into the parking lot of a seedy, run-down apartment building, The Brentwood Arms. As he passed the building, Bob made a mental note of the location and nodded to himself. Nick was just getting out of his Pinto in one fo the parking spaces beside the building. He clutched a sack in one hand, holding it by the neck of the bottle inside.
At the end of the block, Bob told Bonnie to get back up. "It's okay now. I think I know where he's living, too. Or at least has a friend he's visiting tonight. I think he had a bottle of wine or booze with him, in a sack."
Bonnie stretched and adjusted her seat belt so it was more comfortable. "It was probably one of those big cheap bottles of beer. He likes those. Was he alone?"
"Yes, he was alone."
"He always said he was a night person. He used to go out all night long, come back in the morning, drunk and mean. I guess he hasn't changed any."
"That explains why he was behind your apartment so early in the morning, then. I'm beginning to understand him."
"I'm glad you are. I never could," she replied. The memories were beginning to curdle in her stomach, and she unconsciously folded her hands over her midsection. Bob saw her do it and knew. He wadded the anger tighter, pushed it down deeper.
"It's always best to know as much as possible about your enemies, so you can handle them. Don't worry, Bonnie, I won't let him get near you."
She felt a rush of gratitude to this kind, strong man who made her feel so safe. "You just...I...don't know what to say. Thank you, Bob. That means a lot to me."
"I know," said Bob, smiling and nodding as the sleeping city slid past outside the windows.
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Post by ColcordMama on May 17, 2012 20:16:04 GMT -7
16. It started with a fever. He woke up feeling cold, tossing and turning on his sweaty sheets, his blanket kicked off the bed hours ago. Next came the realization that his joints--all of them--ached. He seemed to be having trouble breathing, too. He hadn't had a hangover this bad in years. He stumbled to the bathroom and looked at himself in the mirror. Awful. His skin looked even greasier than usual and his hair stuck up in clumps. There were dark circles under his eyes this morning, too. As he rummaged in the medicine cabinet for some aspirin, the cough started, and this time it hurt. It wasn't like his ordinary smoker's coough that started up every morning, rank and ropy, ending with him hacking up stuff. No, this time it was a deeper cough, one that rattled his bones and made his chest hurt. He needed a cigarette and a cup of coffee, but he was too tired to make the effort. He was exhausted, drained, felt like he had been run over by a truck. What had he done last night to make him feel this way? How much had he drunk? On his way back to his bed his foot hit something on the floor and it clinked and rolled away under the bed. Beer bottle. Dead soldier. That was it. All he needed was a couple more hours sleep and the hangover would be gone and he'd get up and make coffee, maybe have something to eat. He seemed to remember some leftover pizza in the fridge. He'd eat that.
The people in the apartment next door heard his coughing; the walls were paper thin. They remembered what the television news reports said about the Black Flu, and they were the ones who called the ambulance. He had forgotten to lock the door when he stumbled in last night. The two EMTs in green scrubs, masks and surgical gloves knocked and called out to him but he couldn't hear them, so they opened the door, called his name again, and came in. They found him unconscious, wheezing for breath, stretched across his rumpled bed. They strapped him to the gurney and got him into the back of the ambulance, where one of them started an IV while the other drove. This was the seventh call today for their unit alone. More than half of the patients they transported would not live, and this man would number among the dead before the day was over.
Back at the apartment building, Nick watched from the window of his new girlfriend's living room. He noted that as the ambulance guys left they just pulled the old man's door shut, but did not seem to lock it. That would need to be checked out later tonight, when it was dark. Who knew what there might be in there for the taking?
"Nicky honey?" A sleepy voice called from the bedroom, "you comin' back to bed? It's early still...for pete's sake, it's only eight o'clock in the morning!"
"Yeah, yeah, I'll be there in a minute," he snarled back at her. Women. Never leave ya alone, always wantin' something. He had only known Paula for a week and she got on his nerves something awful with her whining, but she had a furnished apartment with food and beer in the fridge and money in the bank, so he moved in. It was a place to live, wasn't it? He had it good now, as long as she kept her mouth shut. He looked out the window again as the ambulance lights started revolving and the driver put it into gear and pulled away. He would definitely have to get over there and check out that apartment tonight. It was practically being handed to him. He'd be a fool to ignore such a gift.
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Post by ColcordMama on May 17, 2012 20:17:23 GMT -7
17. Bob drove them back to the apartment complex and they all went to sleep in Bonnie's apartment, with Bob on the couch, of course. It felt good to know she trusted him in her apartment, he thought, as he slid off the edge of consciousness and into the soft darkness of sleep, clutching a decorative fringed throw pillow to his chest, his head cradled on another pillow that smelled faintly of her perfume.
Bonnie lay awake in her room for a while, thinking and staring at the faint stripes of light the streetlights down in the parking lot cast through her blinds onto the ceiling. How well did she know Bob, really? Should she be comfortable having him here like this in the same apartment with Lucy, while they slept? What did she really know about him? That he seemed gentle and caring, yes. That he had some murky background that involved violence and other shadowy things? That too. She had known him for only about a month now, and even at that, not very well. He chewed with his mouth closed, he drove a nice car, he was respectful toward her and carefully kind toward Lucy. All those things. But he had a dark edge, didn't he? He told her straight out that if he had to, he could, as he said, put a hurt on Nick, and she believed he would. He certainly looked capable of it, there was no doubt of that. He carried himself well, was apparently in good shape from what she could tell from the way he dressed, and he had a way about him...something she couldn't exactly define to herself...but a self-confident air, the way he walked, the way he seemed to be totally aware of his surroundings at all times. She sighed to herself. When she boiled it all down, she felt safe with him. She felt protected. She felt cared-for. That was the term. Cared-for. No longer did she think of him as a strong big brother who would protect her, now she just felt...cared-for. She didn't want to examine her feelings any deeper than that right now, not with all that was going on in her life anyway. She closed her eyes and let her muscles relax. It would be all right. Bob was on the couch, like an armed guard at the palace door, and she and Lucy were safe.
They all awoke at the same time, to the sound of another ambulance siren in the parking lot. Bonnie didn't even bother looking out the window now, it had become so routine. She dressed quickly and came out to the living room to find Bob folding his blanket and laying it on the back of the couch. He asked if he could make coffee, and she showed him where everything was, then went to get Lucy changed and dressed. It was nine-thirty and raining outside.
They ate a hasty breakfast and left in his SUV. Traffic was sparse and few stores even had lights on inside now, with most of them closed anyway, but they found a large supermarket that had a few cars in the parking lot. Bob let Bonnie and Lucy off at the front door then parked and came inside where they waited for him by the carts. The store was eerily quiet; maybe the management didn't feel the need to bother with canned music anymore. Half the overhead fluorescent lights were off and the meat, diary and freezer cases were empty and dark. With the overcast rainy day and lack of lights, the place had a creepy, scary-movie feel. What few customers there were all had on white masks, and it seemed like everyone wore yellow rubber kitchen gloves or surgical gloves, and had a hunted, furtive look.
There were no disposable diapers left on the shelves, of course. Bonnie grabbed two packs of toilet paper, four rolls in each, a dented can of baked beans and two cans of creamed corn. Bob came back from the other side of the store with an armload of odd things, a blue tarp, a couple of collapsible water carriers, a coil of nylon rope, a set of jumper cables, and some tools. The shelves where there should have been boxes and bottles of cough and cold medicines were totally empty; in fact, about the only things on the shelves in that department were fad diet medicines, laxatives and bandages. The shelves of hair color kits, shampoos and conditioners were almost full, though. It was a strange and unnerving shopping experience, and they hurried to finish and get out. When they got to the checkout, Bob took over and paid for everything, insisting that it was only right, since he had selected most of the goods in the basket.
They loaded their purchases into the SUV and left. Bob said he had a surprise, and would she mind a side trip? When she hesitated, he explained. He knew of a fishing camp an hour away, up in the mountains and hard to get to because of bad roads. Would she mind if they went there to check it out? There was nothing else to do at home, an outing would feel good, and Bonnie yearned for fresh air and pine trees after being cooped up in the apartment for so long, so she said yes, and Bob turned onto the highway, smiling to himself. It has been several years since he had been there, but he knew it would be just as he had left it. And it was perfect.
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Post by ColcordMama on May 17, 2012 20:19:05 GMT -7
18.
They went through two checkpoints on the way up to the fishing camp. At the first one, a man in an orange vest just looked at them and waved them on through without comment, but at the second, a police officer wearing a white surgical mask was talking to each driver as they passed through. When it came their turn, his patter sounded tired and canned, and he rubbed one hand over his eyes as he spoke to Bob through the open driver's side window.
"The area you are entering is under temporarily heightened quarantine conditions, so be aware before you go any further that you may not be able to return in the next few days if you leave now. If you change your mind and want to go back, drive forward to where the other officer is standing with the red flag. He will direct you to the turn-around. If you want to continue, proceed forward slowly to the officer standing on the other side of the yellow caution tape, see him?"
Bob looked where the man was pointing, then said, "Okay if we pull over here and talk before we decide?" The officer nodded and pointed them to a place along the side of the road, then turned his attention to the car behind them. Bob guided the SUV over, stopped and turned in his seat to face Bonnie.
"So, what do you want to do? Should we keep going and see what we find, or turn back to the apartments? Whaddya think? Should we go on?"
Lucy was asleep in her car seat behind Bob. Bonnie turned and looked at her little girl, then back at Bob. What was waiting in her apartment? Long days of boredom and isolation. Nothing to do but watch television and wave to Bob. Maybe get to go out to try to shop, but that's about it.
"Just how bad is the quarantine up ahead, I wonder?" she replied. "I mean, are we really going to be at risk?"
"Hold on and I'll go ask," Bob said, getting out of the SUV. When he returned a few minutes later, after having talked to the masked police officer, he sat down and sighed.
"There is a classification chart they are using, based on population percentages. Apparently where we're heading the numbers of deaths has just climbed over the line, so they've reclassified the area. But the cop told me that where we live, back in Centerville, will most likely go over that line by midnight tonight, so it won't make any difference one way or the other. He said by tomorrow or the next day both areas will be the same classification. So technically, it's just a matter of time."
"And what are we going to exactly, Bob?"
"Well, it's a fishing camp I know of. Actually, I own it, but I've been busy and haven't been there in a few years. It was my family's and I inherited it when my Dad passed away. We used to spend summers there when I was a kid. There's a house, a lake, a dock and a boathouse with a couple of boats. It's remote and hard to get there because the road isn't maintained by the county. But the mountains and lake are beautiful, there is a full pantry and no neighbors, it's peaceful there, and Nick could never find you no matter how hard he tries. I think--I hope--it would be a safe place for us."
"Okay, let's go. I think I'd like that."
Bob chose his next words very carefully. "If we do get trapped there by the quarantine, are you going to mind staying? I mean, you don't know me very well, and we would be way out in the mountains."
Bonnie smiled at him. "How many bedrooms are there, and will you take me fishing?"
"Fishing? Absolutely. Bedrooms? Enough, I promise. This is just a friendly trip, Bonnie. You have nothing to fear from me." And now he smiled back at her.
They made their way through the orange cones and yellow tape areas and finally got back on the highway, heading into the mountains. Bonnie rolled her window down partway and breathed in the fresh, clean air, and felt her spirit buoyed up by the prospect of a few days at a rustic cabin on a lake in the pines. She didn't have a change of clothing or some other essentials for such a trip, but at this point she didn't care. It was time for something new in her life and if she had to make some adjustments, it would be fun. Maybe there was a washtub at the cabin and she could rinse out some clothes as she needed to. She'd make do. It would be a relief to be away from the constant reminders of the Black Flu and death and deprivation. This was going to be a wonderful vacation. She would enjoy roughing it.
Halfway up into the mountains Bob turned off onto a small dirt road that gradually morphed into a single lane deeply cut with ruts, passing a sign that warned, "Private Property, Dead End." When they came to a metal gate with a padlock, Bob jumped out and unlocked it, then drove through, got out again and dragged the gate closed again on its little metal wheels. She saw him pull the chain through the gate and attach the padlock like before. He was grinning when he came back to the SUV and got back behind the wheel. "Not much longer now," he breathed happily, "just wait'll you see this!"
The pine trees crowded the road so closely on both sides that smaller branches scratched and squealed along the sides and windows of the vehicle, and Bonnie had to close her window to avoid getting slapped in the face by the long, fragrant needles. The ruts in the road were deep and kept throwing them from side to side in their seats, even though Bob had slowed down considerably from the speed they were making on the highway. The road meandered up, up and up, then back down steeply twice. Then, about ten miles beyond the gate, just past a thick stand of pines, the road curved to the left and the forest opened up slightly, Bonnie saw what Bob had been talking about, and she gasped.
The lodge was beautiful. It was built entirely of peeled, dark brown stained logs, two stories with a full length covered porch across the front, and attic gables where windows gleamed in the late afternoon light filtering through the trees. It probably had at least three bedrooms. There was a stone chimney against one end and soaring windows in the room where the fireplace was. There were flower beds gone to weeds in front of the house, a gravel driveway led to a separate garage off to the left side, and past the house, through the trees, she could see the sparkle of a blue lake. She turned to look at Bob and he was watching her, grinning like a boy.
"This is your fishing camp?" was all she could get out.
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Post by ColcordMama on May 17, 2012 20:20:44 GMT -7
19.
The house was gorgeous inside, hardwood floors everywhere, an oak stairway to the second floor, a well-equipped kitchen, and a balcony looking out at the lake off the second-floor master bedroom. The place was quiet and smelled like dusty emptiness. Bob built a fire in the fireplace and Bonnie laid a still-sleeping Lucy on the leather couch that faced the fireplace. She draped a soft blanket over the little girl and Bob went into the kitchen and made a pot of coffee. The coffee and fire combined to make the house smell like home, warm and comfortable and welcoming. When she went into the kitchen to get a cup of coffee, Bonnie discovered that Bob had also taken some steaks out of the freezer to thaw for their dinner.
"We'll stay for a couple of days, okay?" he called to her from the family room.
"Sure, I don't mind. The plants won't get watered, but I gave them a big drink this morning anyway. They'll be fine, I think," she replied as she stood looking out the kitchen window, sipping her coffee. Down beside the lake she could see a short pier next to a small building, probably where the boat was stored. There were three ducks on the lake, flapping their wings and splashing.
"Oh wait..!" she amended, "I don't have any spare clothes or enough diapers for Lucy! Or enough formula!"
She heard a sound and turned. He had come up behind her and stood there, looking over her shoulder out the window. "We'll manage for diapers and milk. There's canned milk in the pantry and I know where there's stack of clean old towels. Can't you use those for diapers?"
The ducks flew off a short distance, made a turn and came back to splash down at almost the same location on the lake, quacking and quarreling over some treat floating in the water. It was beautiful, very peaceful and clean. Bonnie could feel the tension of the past few weeks melting away from her body.
"You're right. We'll manage. I'm sure I can use towels somehow, and canned milk will work. I'll make it work. This is just so..." she groped for words.
"...beautiful?" He looked like he wanted to touch her, but instead he stuffed his hands into his jacket pockets.
"Oh yes, so very beautiful, and serene too. How long has your family owned this place? You said you used to come here as a boy..?"
He walked to the back door and opened it, and the scent of pine resin drifted into the kitchen. He grabbed a weathered gray log from a neat stack on the full-length back porch. "Yes, Dad and Mom bought this place when I was just a kid. I've always loved it. This where Dad taught me to hunt and fish."
She followed him back to the family room where he laid the log down, moved the metal fireplace screen and put the log on the fire. He replaced the screen and brushed his hands together, then sat down in a big leather chair trimmed with nailheads. He pointed up at a mounted deer head on the wall. "Dad and I got that one together. He always told me that I was the one that shot it, but he was the better shot. I was only fourteen at the time and from then on, I've loved hunting."
Lucy was snoring gently, her head cradled on a soft decorative pillow; she moved and hugged a corner of the blanket closer to her chest. She looked so peaceful sleeping there like that. Just watching her made Bonnie tired, and she yawned.
"Why don't I carry Lucy upstairs to bed and you lie down with her and have a nap?" Bob said.
"I think I'll do that. I can't seem to keep my eyes open. I must be worn out from everything that's been happening lately. What are you going to do?" Bonnie yawned again. She had to get some sleep.
Bob stood and bent over Lucy and gently gathered her into his arms. "I'm going to check the property over, make sure everything is where it should be. Just do a little recon," he whispered over his shoulder as he headed for the stairway with Lucy.
The wood plank bedroom floor creaked as Bob walked to the queen-sized bed. Bonnie slipped quickly past him and pulled down the white cotton comforter so he could lay Lucy down. They tucked Lucy in and she turned over and sighed in her sleep as she made herself comfortable. Bonnie kicked off her shoes and lay down beside Lucy, and Bob tiptoed out, waved goodbye, and closed the door behind himself.
As she started to drift off on the smooth white pillowcase, somewhere outside she heard a bird song, then quick rapping noises as a woodpecker went to work on one of the trees beside the house. This house is a mansion, Bonnie thought. Bob's parents are dead, he has no siblings, and he owns this house. She thought about the long narrow dirt road all the way back to the "private property" sign. It was a lot of land. Does Bob own all that land, and this house and the lake? Just how wealthy is Bob? And what exactly does he do for a living? She knew he had feelings toward her. That was easy to tell. What wasn't easy was deciding how she felt toward him. He was strong and calm and kind. She couldn't say she loved him, no, not now, but she did like being with him. Liked it a lot. Should she worry about that? But she felt so comfortable and safe with him. Did she have any reason not to? Could she really trust him? And if she couldn't, wasn't it just a little bit late to think of that now, miles and miles away from civilization through a deep forest? And if he owned all this, this forest mansion, what was he doing living in an apartment? Somewhere outside she heard a chainsaw growl once or twice as it started up, then the whine resonated through the forest as the blade cut into wood.
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Post by ColcordMama on May 17, 2012 20:22:51 GMT -7
20.
Nick was slumped against a garbage dumpster in an alley, his body bruised, blood dripping down his face from a cut on his scalp. It had been an interesting day for him, starting this morning when he'd left the apartment to go get some cough syrup for his girlfriend. She was hacking and choking, lying in bed, running a fever and cursing him for not taking her to the doctor. How could he? He didn't have any money to pay for a doctor! If he could just get some cough syrup she'd be okay he told himself, so there he was in the middle of a Target pharmaceuticals section when the fight broke out. Two women started it, battling each other over a package of Nyquil caplets, screaming and kicking and tearing the cardboard box open as they fought over it. Even Nick was a little embarrassed by the spectacle of two middle-aged women, all dignity gone, hissing and spitting like a couple of cats, grappling with each other in the aisle. It was a wonder they'd found even one box of the medicine, but had been shoved behind boxes of Alka-Seltzer in the row beside its usual place, and it came to light when the last box was moved. Now the women were screaming and the store manager was running down the main aisle toward the fray, another man galloping along beside him. Nick stood watching all this, frozen in surprise, a bag of lemon cough drops clutched in his hand.
What an opportunity! Nick glanced back at the front of the store and saw nobody on the one register the store kept open, no greeter at the main door. What few employees were still on duty were headed in this direction as fast as they could trot. Nick sidled away from the pharmaceuticals, picked up a shopping basket, and started grabbing things. He snagged a bag of animal cookies, a DVD movie starring Nicolas Cage, a pair of running shoes that looked to be his size, a disposable camera, and a handful of Hershey bars. When he got to the registers he stuffed all these things into a Target bag, dropped the shopping basket onto a stack of others and strolled out the store. Piece of cake.
Unfortunately, when he got back to the apartment his girlfriend was gone. Maybe she drove herself to the hospital. He dropped the cough drops on the rumpled, sweat-stained bed and went into the small living room to try on the running shoes. They felt good, better than any he'd had for a long time, but then he hadn't been able to afford any good shoes in a long time, either. He ate some of the cookies and one of the candy bars, and decided to save the Cage movie for tonight. He left it with the camera on the coffee table and went out again. He felt restless. He needed some more excitement. The fight between the women had only served to get him all revved up, got his blood working. He craved an adrenalin rush to further fuel that feeling. He needed the release it would bring.
He found an old bar down on the southside of town; Nick went inside and ordered a cold longneck, sat down on one of the stools and leaned his elbows on the sticky countertop, over the grimy and torn leatherette bumper. He had his pistol in the inside pocket of his dirty jacket. If the bar was still open, it was because there was money to be made. If the place was making money, that meant there was money in the cash register. And he wanted it. He sat there sullenly nursing the beer and smoking cigarettes down to the filters, grinding them out one by one in the cheap glass ashtray on the bar. He watched the bartender through narrowed eyes as a few customers, all men, came and went. When his bottle was empty he ordered another, paying out of the cash he had stolen from his girlfriend's purse last night. The guy behind the bar was younger than Nick. He wore a white apron, top folded down, with the strings wrapped around the back and tied in front. He didn't seem to be the athletic type. Probably a college student. Nick could take him if he wanted to. After the second beer Nick was mellower. Kid was probably someone's little brother. Nick wondered what he was studying in college. Nick also wondered how much money was in the cash drawer by now. It was five, maybe six o'clock. There had to be a small fortune there. Maybe a hundred, hundred and fifty bucks. He watched the kid as he swigged his third beer. The kid had soft hands. Probably never did a day's hard work in his life. The beer was good, icy cold as it went down. He paid and ordered another and Kid took the empty away and wiped the counter where Nick had spilled cigarette ashes into the wet rings the bottles made in front of him. Good kid. Coulda been my little brother, I bet. I wish I'd had a little brother, Nick thought. He could feel the cold dead weight of the gun dragging his coat down on one side, and he suddenly wondered if his jacket looked funny like that, if the others in the bar could see it and tell what he had tucked inside the pocket. He swung around on his barstool and glared at the tables behind him, but there was nobody there. When he turned back to his beer, Kid was standing there.
"You've had three, buddy, and this is number four. You about ready for a cup of coffee, on the house?" the college student who had never worked a day in his life was saying to him. Kid emptied the ashtray into a trash can behind the counter and waited for Nick to reply.
"No, no coffee. I'm a beer drinker, not a coffee drinker," Nick slurred, and laughed at his joke. It was a funny joke. Why didn't little brother laugh too?
"Okay pal, but you know I gotta cut you off here pretty soon. I don't want any trouble when I do, okay?" He was slim and his hands were soft. Nick was wiry and tough, had been around the block more than once and knew street fighting tricks this kid had never even heard of. He could take him. Nick smiled to himself as the bartender shrugged and moved on down the bar, wiping as he went. Piece of cake.
It didn't take long. The last patron sitting at the bar, down at the other end, finished his whiskey shot, slapped some bills on the counter with the empty glass and walked out. The only other customer in the place was a drunk sleeping with his head on the table way in the back, by the men's room. This was it, this was the best chance he was ever gonna get. Nick got off his barstool and sauntered around to the end, where the cash register was, where a portion of the bar lifted up to allow access to the back where the bartender worked. The Kid was watching him now but it didn't matter, did it? Nick could take him. Nick was wiry and lean and strong. Nick stumbled, his feet tangling on themselves as he lifted the hinged section and started to step up onto the wooden slats where the bartender walked back and forth to serve drinks. He tripped just a little, caught himself with one hand on the bar, and lifted his head just in time to see the bartender striding toward him, hands empty and loose at his sides.
"Stop right there," the Kid shouted in a voice that sounded older than he looked. "Don't go any further. You can't come back here."
Nick giggled. Piece of cake. He could see the drunk still asleep back at the table. Nobody else in the bar, just him and the kid. He smiled at the bartender and raised his hand apologetically and said, "It's okay, just gimme the money, kid, and I'll..." He didn't get the rest of the words out, just let his mouth hang open because the bartender had stopped and turned sideways to Nick and raised one hand parallel to his body, his head turned to face Nick. Nick giggled again. The kid looked like someone out of a Jackie Chan movie. Who did he think he was kidding?
"Just gimme..." Nick started to say, but then there was a blur of hands and maybe a foot, he couldn't remember very clearly now, and all of a sudden here he was, holding his head next to a dumpster, on his butt in a puddle of old motor oil, and he hurt all over. He must have been out for a while too, because there was gunk from the alley stuck to the side of his face. Nick finally made it to his feet and slunk out the far end of the alley, found his car and went home. His girlfriend still wan't back from wherever she'd gone.
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Post by ColcordMama on May 17, 2012 20:25:17 GMT -7
21.
The two women fighting over Nyquil may have been an isolated incident, but it wouldn't be the last. Late one night someone drove a stolen car through the front window of a small grocery store on the east side of the city, and only took food: the last cans of stuff like lima beans, collard greens, maraschino cherries, dried buttermilk powder, hot pickled peppers. Several cases of canned dog food were also taken, while bags of dry dog food were ignored. In another incident the lock on a small Baptist church door was jimmied and persons unknown ransacked the fellowship hall kitchen, but only got away with a few industrial-size cans of tomato sauce, hominy and spinach, a large box of dry milk powder, plus two cases of toilet paper.
A more concerted effort at supplying personal needs took place at a Sam's Club, however. After waiting for more than two hours past the posted opening time, a hundred or so desperate, angry shoppers took matters into their own hands, and the instant the manager opened the big door a crack to judge the size of the crowd, those standing nearest simply forced the door open and shoved past the man, knocking him to the concrete floor and fracturing his tailbone in the process. The rest of the crowd followed, grabbing carts and throwing what groceries and supplies they could find on the nearly empty shelves into them as fast as they could. The more law-abiding among them then lined up for the checkout lines (this store had two open, a rarity during the crisis), but the majority simply rushed back out the door, loaded the looted goods into their cars and drove away, while the assistant manager waved his hands and screamed for help that never came.
Two fires burned out of control because of understaffing at local fire stations. One of the fires took a house and all its contents, and the life of an elderly woman who couldn't get out fast enough. The second fire happened in an apartment building where the electricity had been cut off. The apartments came with free electricity, paid by the management company, but the bill wasn't paid this month because three out of the four employees of the company had died or were about to, so the power company's computers kicked out the address of the building and one of the few employees left on the job threw a switch somewhere and cut off the power. The residents of the building had no electricity, no lights, no heat and no stoves, so one enterprising idiot decided to build a fire in his bathtub so he could cook the meat that was going bad in his fridge. The fire set the shower curtain ablaze, which in turn jumped to the ceiling and the apartment above it. Naturally, it spread unchecked through the cheaply-built structure. Thirty eight people were left homeless and five died of smoke inhalation. If the apartment building had been closer to other buildings the flames would have spread disastrously, but as it was, a lack of trees and landscaping around the building, the distance it sat away from other homes and businesses, and a fortunate shift in wind direction allowed the fire to burn itself out after only consuming the building and twelve cars that had been parked beside it.
In some parts of the city, water dwindled to a trickle when pumps in a switching station shut down inexplicably. The engineer who best understood why this happened and how to correct it was home trying his best not to die, so the shift boss, an inexperienced sub, decided to let it wait until he could verify the restart sequence with someone who knew what it was all about. By the time that person was located and the information was transmitted to someone who could implement his instructions, three days had passed, and by that time, because of a lack of clean, potable water, some residents of the affected area had already taken to dipping water from an irrigation canal that bisected their neighborhood. Of those residents, some were cautious enough to boil what they dipped before they drank it or used it for cooking. Of those who boiled, those who boiled it for the correct length of time were safe. Of the rest, including those who didn't bother boilingat all, roughly forty percent came down with severe diarrhea and vomiting. To compound the problem, there was no water for flushing, so some people dug makeshift outhouses where they could, in the backyard in most cases. Those who were already weakened by chronic health problems and sickness died, while the strongest of those afflicted felt like they were going to die but gradually recovered.
For the hardest-hit areas of Centerville, the economically deprived areas most desperate for food and supplies, the National Guard sent a truck with a loud hailer through the neighborhoods for two days, announcing the delivery of much-needed goods at an appointed time and place in a neighborhood park. Full of good intentions and khaki colored boxes with stencilled-on labels and cases of shrink-wrapped bottled water, the two deuce and a half trucks arrived right on time at the park, to be greeted by a large surly mob of mostly younger street thugs, with a few respectable citizens pushed off to the side by their sheer numbers. Jostling for position as the trucks ground to a halt and armed uniformed troops jumped down from the backs, the street kids were momentarily fazed by the calm professionalism and undeniable military force they faced, but it didn't take long for any semblance of order to break down as the soldiers began preparing to hand out boxes. The colonel in charge, strictly by the book and never having seen combat, was accustomed to having his barked orders obeyed immediately and without question by the men under his command, so when he ordered the civilians to back off and form orderly lines, to sign a book when they had received their allotted share, he expected to be obeyed. The crowd just laughed at him and pushed forward again. He panicked and yelled for his men to stop distribution, to get back in the trucks with what they had already unloaded, and he himself jumped up onto one of the lowered tailgates and stood there, confronting the crowd. When the street youths pressed up against the trucks and started grabbing boxes off the tailgates, the soldiers unholstered their weapons and looked to the colonel. He had never stopped to think this far ahead, to order his men to fire upon fellow citizens. It was beyond his ken, unthinkable and abhorrent, but right now, these weren't Americans. They were Biafrans, or Ecuadoreans, or Chinese. They were enemies. They were a mob attacking him, his trucks and his soldiers. He drew his service revolver and fired a warning shot into the air, but the howling mob ignored him and surged forward again, clawing at the trucks on several sides. In the background noise someone was screaming in pain, and something was thumping horribly against the side of the truck, like a body being rhythmically slammed over and over again against the green metal. He shouted for the drivers to pull away, yelled, "Abort, abort, abort," but only the driver of his own truck could hear him, and when the trucks' gears ground and it began to move slowly away from the press of human bodies, some of the clutching hands wouldn't let go of the tailgate, and the soldiers had to beat with their fists and weapon butts to make the hands let go. The other truck driver saw them start up, signalled to the colonel and he gave an answering wave of his arm, and that truck pulled slowly out of the park as well. Thirty or so of the diehards ran after them a short way, but as the trucks gained ground and moved faster, even they were soon left behind. Thus ended the government's first and most disastrous food and essential goods distribution effort.
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Post by ColcordMama on May 17, 2012 20:27:24 GMT -7
22.
They stayed at the lodge beside the lake for three days, but finally decided it was time to go back. Bonnie and Lucy needed fresh clothing, Bonnie was worried about the plants at her apartment, and Lucy was tired of canned milk. They did have a wonderful time while they were there, though. Bob took them out in the little rowboat early one morning and they fished, and he caught three trout, cutthroats he called them, which he fried for their breakfast. It was quiet and peaceful there, and the evening of the second day, just as the sunset was fading, two elk wandered into the space between the house and the lake. Bonnie and Bob were sitting in the living room, looking out the back windows and drinking coffee. Lucy was playing on a folded blanket on the floor nearby. Suddenly the two animals simply walked slowly past the house on their way to the lake, a large bull elk and a smaller one, probably his mate. Bonnie gasped with delight and froze, watching and enjoying the sight. Bob had seen elk many times in his years at the place, but watching Bonnie enjoy this was better than anything to him right now.
She had been pleasant but carefully neutral during the stay; he took his cue from her and didn't so much as touch her hand except to help her into the rowboat. He could tell he was falling for her. That much he already knew. He wasn't sure what her feelings were for him, or even if she had any, but he wasn't going to jeopardize his chances with a hasty move or word. Slow and steady wins the race, he kept telling himself, meanwhile listening while she talked, being as calm and strong as he knew how, and helping as much as he could with Lucy. Lucy was beginning to know him by now, to accept him and allow him to carry her when they went on walks. She even crawled to him and held up her arms to be picked up, which delighted him. He thought it pleased Bonnie, too, but it was hard to tell. He thought once that he saw her smile to herself before she turned away, but he wasn't going to take it to the bank. Slow and steady. Be nice. Let her see who I am. Let her decide what and when, if at all.
When the time came to leave, it was almost sad. Both of them felt strangely like they were leaving a friend when they walked out the polished wood front door, locked it and got into the car. Bob saw Bonnie look back at the house once as they drove away through the trees. Maybe she wanted to stay. Interesting. Maybe they could come back some time.
Maybe they would have to. Fifteen miles away at another roadblock they were turned off onto a detour, heading west and far out of their way. Another roadblock shunted them off toward a small, bleak town with few amenities, just a convenience store with gas pumps, a bar, a small old fashioned store and a scattering of houses and miscellaneous run down businesses. Past that town lay a long stretch of two lane blacktop. They couldn't go back. At the last roadblock they were informed, by a bored cop wearing an orange vest over his uniform, that travel to Centerville was all but shut down, and no, he didn't know for how long.
"So much for the plants," Bonnie sighed. "Now what do we do? Go back to your house at the lake?"
"We could, but you and Lucy don't have spare clothes. And we'd need to see if we can get some milk, and maybe bread. Let's go back and see what we can find in that last place we came through."
"Okay, but I doubt we'll be able to get any clothes there." Bonnie was worried. She didn't know how much money she had with her, if it was enough to buy what bare minimum she and Lucy needed. She briefly considered what she'd do if Bob offered to pay. Should she accept? What was she going to do? This was awkward. "We need to be careful. Do we have any more masks?"
Bob pulled over onto the shoulder. Several cars whizzed past, evidently on their way somewhere on this back road detour. Maybe they knew something he didn't. "Can you reach that sack on the floor back there in front of Lucy? I think if we have any masks, they'll be in there."
Bonnie twisted herself around so she could reach behind his seat, and rummaged in the sack. "No. I'm not finding any masks in there. I think we're out, Bob. What are we going to do?"
"We can't sit here." He started the car and pulled back onto the road. "We'll go back and I'll go in alone. I still have the mask I wore the last time we shopped." He dug in the inside pocket of his jacket, pulled out the folded and squashed mask. "Can you sort this out? I'll use it again. It's better than nothing. You and Lucy wait in the car. No point in you two being exposed. I'll go in and see what I can find. Whatever happens, we'll go back to the house and make do, okay?"
"Okay," she answered in a small voice. This was worse than she realized. The crisis was bigger and more serious than she ever imagined. She wondered if she would get back to her apartment and job again soon. Or ever.
She smoothed out the mask as best as she could and when they got to the store, he parked, put the mask on and got out of the car. "Stay here," he repeated. His eyes looked grim above the white bulge. "I don't want you to come in and maybe catch something." Bonnie nodded, he closed the door and left. She pushed the Lock button on impulse, locking all the doors on the SUV. Lucy was nodding off in her car seat and the engine was cooling, ticking quietly to itself. She could hear a distant whap! as the spring-loaded screen door on the old store building slapped shut behind Bob.
After ten minutes or so, he returned. He had a brown paper bag in his arms and he rapped on the window on the driver's side with the knuckles of one hand. Bonnie hurriedly hit the Unlock button and he got in, putting the bag on the console between them. She looked at him questioningly as he pulled off the mask and stuffed it back into his jacket.
He sighed as he fumbled with the car keys. "I got what I could, no fresh milk, but I did get a jar of yeast. I found a package of baby tee shirts, I think there are three of them in there, and this." He dug in the sack with his right hand and handed her a plastic bundle of white cotton fabric with pinked edges showing. "It's diapers. Real ones. The kind you wash out and use over and over again. The guy's wife in there said this is what you'll need right now. They had these in the back. We're lucky this is such an old-timey store, and the woman was so savvy!"
"Bob," Bonnie exclaimed, astonished, "this is absolutely perfect! How did she..? How did you..? But wait," she stopped short, "I can't. We can't use these. I don't have any safety pins for them!"
Bob had the turn signal on and was about to pull out onto the road again, but he stopped, turned to face her and grinned. He reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out a square of cardboard with pink-headed safety pins shrink-wrapped onto it. "She was one smart woman, honey. Look what she gave me to give you!"
Bonnie's mouth dropped open. She stared at Bob and the safety pins he held out to her. She put her hand out and took them from him, all the while thinking, 'He doesn't even realize what he just said.' It didn't scare her or bother her. He didn't realize. It just came naturally when he was distracted. "Thank you," she said, "this is wonderful!"
But now his attention was focused on his driving again, his eyes darting left and right, paying attention to an eighteen wheeler roaring past going the opposite way, to the cars filling the other lane. It seemed like they were the only ones going back toward the mountain road where the little dead end turnoff to the house and lake began. The detour was a major one, judging from the amount of traffic being diverted. What was going on?
It was only with the greatest difficulty that they managed to get the officer at the roadblock let them back through the way they had come, and only after Bob lied through his teeth about them having to get back to an elderly mother-in-law "with the preschooler" at the house in the mountains. Bonnie smiled at the cop who leaned closer to the car to peer inside, looking at Lucy awake now and playing with a teether in her car seat behind Bob. Then he reluctantly waved them on through, Bob thanked him and they were off again.
Once safely past and on their way, Bonnie spoke. "Preschooler, huh? Mother-in-law? Uh huh. Yeah. Right." She giggled.
"Well hey, it worked, didn't it? I was afraid for a minute there he was checking for a wedding ring on you." Then they both laughed.
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Post by ColcordMama on May 17, 2012 20:29:00 GMT -7
23.
If things were difficult for Bonnie, they were really bad for Nick. His new girlfriend hadn't come back to her apartment. He was hungry and the pantry and fridge were empty, and his car was low on gas. Last night he had gone to the dead guy's apartment and tried the door, but it was locked. Someone must have come back and locked it after they hauled the old man away. Nick was wearing a long sleeve shirt, a flannel one, so he just busted out a window with his elbow and got inside. Nobody came to check out the sound of breaking glass. Nobody cared anymore. There were some canned goods in the kitchen, half a carton of sour milk, an opened can of Bud and some eggs in the fridge, and half a loaf of bread in the freezer, along with a couple of tv dinners, so last night Nick filled his belly. At first he felt strange about drinking the beer. It had gone flat, but Bud was Bud, and it was cold and he was thirsty and achey. He still hurt from the bar beating. He had big lavender and yellow bruises on his forearms and left side and a knot on his head. He still needed money, too. There wasn't much money in the dead guy's apartment, just a can of coins that left a rust ring on the formica kitchen counter and a checkbook in his dresser drawer. Nick went through the place pretty thoroughly, too, emptying all the drawers and looking under the bed--nothing there but an empty beer bottle--and in the medicine cabinet. Nick pocketed the checkbook. Might be able to put it to good use, although he had never been a forger. He prided himself on that.
Maybe it was time to move on. Yeah sure he had a place to stay, a bed and a shower. Maybe she'd come back, maybe she wouldn't. But he felt restless again. Sitting all day on his butt in an apartment wasn't his style. He needed to be out, needed to be doing something, anything, as long as it wasn't work. He hated daytime tv anyway, with its yakking ads for trade schools and attorneys and car insurance. He needed none of those. What he needed was money. He had to put gas in his car and food in his gut, and a six pack of beer would go down real nice right now. He threw what clothes he had into a couple of plastic Wal-Mart bags and took the television set from her apartment. He could pawn it and get a good price. It had a built-in VCR and a remote. He could probably get fifty bucks for it. He thought about taking something else, maybe her painting of Elvis on black velvet, but he'd never seen one of those in a pawn shop. They probably wouldn't want it and then he'd be stuck with it. He hated the stupid painting, Elvis with his microphone in that white suit with the big collar sticking up, and sure as God made little green apples he'd be stuck with it, so he left it behind. Nick locked the door behind him, stuck the bags and tv set in his car and left. It had been six hours since he'd eaten the tv dinners and drunk the dead guy's cold, flat Bud.
Nick felt a tickle deep in his chest and he coughed at the first stoplight away from the apartment building. The guy in the car sitting next to him turned and looked at him, then hit the button and rolled up his automatic window on Nick's side. Nick gave him the finger just as the light turned green, and Nick coughed again, harder now, as he accelerated away from the intersection.
An hour later he was pulling away from the last pawn shop in the city, closed just like all the others had been, big folding rolling metal security bars pulled across the front and padlocked in several places. Now he was sweating, too. He was hot. He had taken off the flannel shirt and just wore a stained white tee shirt with his jeans. He rolled the window down beside him so he could feel the cool air as he drove. The needle was dangerously close to "Empty" now. It was time for the desperation maneuver. He pulled up to the pump at a two-pumper independent gas station and put about ten gallons into the tank. He could see the big man in the station watching him through the window, so he smiled and waved that he'd be right in. The man waved back but didn't smile, just waited. Nick hung the nozzle up and walked to the window and rapped on it.
"Hey buddy, you got a restroom?" Nick put a note of urgency in his voice.
The man nodded and pointed around back, fished under the counter and handed Nick a key attached to an 8 inch plank that had "MEN" burned into it. Nick took the key and said, "Thanks, okay if I leave the car there for a few minutes? I'll be as quick as I can."
The man waved him off and got off his seat to stretch. Nick made as if he was going to go around the corner but hung back and watched and sure enough, the man walked toward the back of the store, where the coolers were. Probably was gonna get himself a beer. This was his chance. Nick dropped the key in the dirt and sprinted for his car as quietly as he could, jumped in and turned the key in the ignition and for once, it started on the first click. He spun his tires, throwing dirt and dust as he roared out of the parking lot. He was half a block away before he saw the guy tear the door open and come running out. Nick started to laugh, but it only came out as coughing. He was coughing so hard he had to pull over a few blocks away, in the parking lot of a closed shoe store. He hung onto the steering wheel and coughed like he was trying to bring up a lung, and geez, it hurt. He was sweating like a pig now, too, burning up with fever. Then he thought of the flu thing, and the girlfriend who had been sick. Had she given this to him? If she had, he swore, he'd kill her.
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Post by ColcordMama on May 17, 2012 20:30:47 GMT -7
24.
Ten gallons wasn't very much but it was enough to get Nick to the outskirts of town, to the first barricade. He slowed for the guy in the orange vest, a uniformed cop standing next to him; he briefly considered just ramming the sawhorses and making a run for it, but where could he go, feeling like this? And where was he trying to go, anyway? He couldn't remember now. Somewhere. Wasn't there somewhere he was going?
"Sorry, all roads out of town are shut down," Orange Vest started to say, then he stopped and peered closer at Nick, who was clinging to the steering wheel as he coughed. Vest murmured something to the cop, who had turned away to talk to someone else. The cop immediately waved at a group of EMTs in white masks, surgical gloves and green scrubs standing beside an ambulance parked on the side of the road, and two of them came running. Both the cop and Orange Vest stood aside as one orderly, without saying a word, carefully opened the driver's side door on Nick's car and held his shoulder with one gloved hand so he wouldn't spill out onto the highway. When Nick had finished coughing, the EMTs eased him out of the car and onto the asphalt. Two more techs brought over a gurney and lowered it so Nick could be lifted onto it, and another hopped into his car and slowly drove it off the road, parked it in a field with several others, rolled up the window and locked it. He brought the keys back to Nick and handed them to him. Nick's hand shook as he stuck them into the pocket of his old Levis. He felt like a little kid again with other people taking care of him, but he didn't care. He was grateful and helpless and ready to be a boy again, anything but a desperately ill loser who was probably going to die.
There was one other patient lying in the back of the ambulance when they shoved the gurney in there, an older gray-haired man who wasn't coughing, but wheezing and groaning with every breath. He must have been related to the woman who stood out beside the ambulance crying, one of the attendants talking to her, holding her by both shoulders with his gloved hands. Everybody was wearing gloves and masks, it seemed. One of the EMTs strapped Nick to the gurney then swabbed the inside of Nick's arm and stuck him with a needle hooked to a hanging bag of what looked like water. He briskly taped the needle to Nick's skin and nodded at Nick when he caught his eye.
"Not feeling too well, are we?" he said. From the sound of his voice, he was faking a smile as he said it. He adjusted the flow of the IV and stuck a paper thermometer into Nick's mouth. "Just lie there and rest for now."
"I feel like hell," Nick muttered, "I don't know how you feel."
The EMT chuckled and felt for Nick's wrist as he looked at his watch. "Well, we'll be on our way pretty soon."
"Hope so," was all Nick had the strength to say. Then everything caught up with him and he simply went to sleep.
He woke up when the ambulance jolted over speed bumps outside the doors of an ER. He heard the clatter as they pulled the other guy out the back, when the wheels of the gurney unfolded and hit the concrete of the driveway. A few seconds later they did the same to him, and he was glad they had strapped him to the frame. You'd have thought they would be a little more careful with sick people, he thought. Then he caught part of a conversation from someone in the group of doctors and EMTs swarming around the ambulance and ER intake doors.
"...don't think he'll make it," someone said. "Critical," the voice remarked matter-of-factly, as thought they were talking about football scores. Somewhere close by someone was sobbing. Now hands were holding the sides of his gurney, wheeling him into the emergency room. He could see the ceiling tiles sliding by, and a long, bright white fluorescent light fixture. Somebody said something about a crash cart. Then Nick went to sleep again.
Out in the woods, Bonnie and Bob and Lucy were cocooned in the big quiet house. Bob had noticed an unusual number of dead birds lying on the ground, and he told Bonnie to be careful to not touch any when she went outside. They were both more cautious now than ever before, because of the dead birds. Neither of them knew whether the carcasses were dangerous but they weren't going to take any chances, so they kept their outside time to a minimum. They had everything they needed in the house. They couldn't go back to their apartments now in any case, so they had to stay. There just wasn't any option. The cloth diapers were a godsend. Milk would have been wonderful, but they would have to make do with what supplies they had in the pantry. Lucy didn't want reconstituted nonfat dry milk, but there was Kool-Aid, canned fruit juice, cans and cans of evaporated milk, and water from the well. It was lucky she was old enough--just--to begin trying to eat mashed-up solid food. They would be fine. Bob and Bonnie even talked about it one night in front of the fireplace after Lucy went to sleep. It was clear to Bonnie that he had given it a lot of thought lately, because he explained everything to her.
The crisis could go on for as long as six months to a year. She gasped when he said that. It frightened and surprised her. She had heard vague references to such a timeline on the news reports before and always dismissed them as hysterical overestimations of the crisis, but now she felt differently. She had never thought she'd see the day when whole cities would be quarantined, but that had happened, hadn't it? So it was entirely possible that this could continue for a very long time, and she and her baby would have to spend it out here in this huge house with Bob. It could have been worse, she reflected. She could have been trapped in her tiny apartment with no money, no stockpile of food, and no way to supply their needs. Now she had a man who apparently cared for her and Lucy, and was ready and able to stand by them and provide for them.
Bob explained that the experts predicted the pandemic would come in waves and they were in the first wave, which could last up to three months. Then would come another, and after that, maybe even another. He took inventory of their food stocks and told her they could, with careful meal planning, last for another month. Then, if he could go out for more, he would. If he couldn't, he told her he would go hunting. He and his father had done much hunting and fishing there over the years and he knew the land and the game trails like the back of his hand. He assured her that he could keep them fed that way if it came to that. The only thing that really worried him was if one or the other of them got sick. That would be a real problem.
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Post by ColcordMama on May 17, 2012 20:32:24 GMT -7
25.
Red and his two buddies were tired, irritable and hungry. They had been camping out in the woods for almost two weeks now, ever since the roadblock had gone up. It was a good thing they had the tent and sleeping bags in the back of the pickup when they were stopped. If they hadn't been on their way back from an unproductive hunting trip, they'd have been stranded somewhere in a motel room, or worse, sleeping in their vehicle. A scattering of displaced people were more or less squatting in a field about half a mile from the barricade, and they were even less lucky than Red and his pals. At least the hunters had shelter, beds and food. But the displaced ones had a few things too. Some charity group had left a pile of stuff on this side of the barricade, blankets, boxes of canned goods, toilet paper, a few other essentials, and the cops said anyone stranded outside of town was to help themselves, so they did. Red and his two friends had made the trip three times back to where the cop cars and sawhorses were set up and each time the load they hauled back was smaller, because fewer and fewer donations were being left there for distribution. Maybe the charity volunteers weren't able to come because they were sick, or maybe they were running out of stuff to bring, but whatever the reason, Red and Peewee and Horse were hungry and all they had left was a couple of cans of creamed corn and half a box of saltines.
"If we'd bagged a deer, we'd have meat now," Peewee groused for the hundredth time as he poked at the campfire with a stick.
"Will you just shut up about a deer?" Horse shot back, throwing his cigarette butt into the fire as he stood up. "I'm sick of hearing you yammerin' on about food. Just shut your pie hole! It ain't helpin' none!" He fumbled with his zipper as he stomped off into the darkness to find a tree.
Peewee wiped his nose with the back of his hand and turned to Red, seated beside him. "Did you hear that?" he whined.
"I heard," Red snapped. He wondered why he ever thought of Peewee as a friend. He was such a loser, a sniveling, self-centered loser who got on everybody's nerves, his own included. "So just shut about it," he said. "We're all hungry, not just you." He got up to put another branch on the fire.
At least the fire made a center for the camp, gave light and warmth and made it seem more like they were still out hunting and everything was normal. Well, as normal as things could be under the circumstances. His toes itched like crazy. It was probably athlete's foot again. **** dirty socks, same boots for two, three weeks now. He had a good start on a beard because he hadn't been able to shave and he would kill for a bottle of Jack Daniels and a cigar. Hell, he'd kill for half a bottle of Jack Daniels. He scratched at his face and thought about their situation. Maybe they should move on, but where? It would have to be somewhere they could get food and shelter and water. And Jack Daniels. Or any rotgut, he wasn't particular any more. He smiled at the thought and rolled the taste memory around in his mouth. Yeah, they were definitely going to have to move on. They couldn't stay here any longer.
"If you coulda kept your trap shut, I'da bagged that buck," Horse started in on Peewee as soon as he stomped back into the light of the campfire. He squatted beside the fire and threw a stick into the flames. "Now look at us! It's all your fault!"
"MY fault?!" Peewee shouted, standing up. Peewee was a good seven or eight inches shorter than either Horse or Red, and like so many short men, made up for his lack of height with an attitude. He bunched his hands into fists and took a step toward Horse, who just looked up and smiled. Horse enjoyed needling him and always had, and Peewee always rose to the bait. But tonight was not the time for it.
"That's ENOUGH!" Red barked, and Peewee immediately sat back down. Horse stirred the dirt next to the fire with another stick as Red began to talk.
"We can't stay here. We didn't get a deer," when Peewee made as if to interrupt Red just held up his hand and Peewee shut his mouth again, "and it's nobody's fault, so both of you shut up about that," Horse smiled his sarcastic smile again as he drew tic-tac-toe grids in the dirt, "and we're almost out of the canned stuff we got at the roadblock. I'm starving, you're starving, we have to get out of here and find someplace else to stay, someplace with food."
"And decent beds," Peewee interjected.
"And women," Horse added, then gave a nasty chuckle.
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Post by ColcordMama on May 17, 2012 20:34:45 GMT -7
26. Bonnie was standing in the kitchen washing out a skillet, looking out the window over the sink. It was early evening, and quiet out over the lake. She felt a sense of peace here that she hadn't expected. Bob was playing with Lucy in the other room, on the rug in front of the fireplace. She could hear Lucy giggling, trying to grab the ball Bob was rolling toward her. The house was warm and snug and safe out here in the woods, far from the world with its flu and dangers. They had just enjoyed a meal of beans and cornbread, and the whole house smelled like the beans she had simmered all day.
She knew this couldn't last but for now, this was home. This was what life should be, she thought. Maybe this was what life could be for her and Lucy. Over the last few days she knew Bob's feelings for her were growing deeper, and she was beginning to wonder if she might not end up falling in love with him as well. He was so kind, so calm and comfortable, so smart. She was at ease with him, protected and provided for in a way she had never felt before, certainly never with Nick. She grimaced at the memory of her former husband, and as if to soothe the memory, she glanced over her shoulder at Bob. At the same moment he turned and looked at her, and they both smiled. She sighed contentedly and turned back to the sinkful of dirty dishes, and then out of the corner of her eye, she saw something dart behind a tree. What was that? Did she actually see something, or was it a trick of the fading sunset? She shaded her eyes with one sudsy hand and looked harder out at the pines. There was nothing out there, nothing but trees and lake and evening shadows. But she felt a prickle run up her back and across her scalp.
"Bob? Would you come here for a sec?" she said in a normal tone of voice.
"Why? What is it?" he replied, rising hurriedly to his feet, handing Lucy the red ball. As Lucy giggled over the treasure he walked quickly into the kitchen.
Bonnie turned her back to the window, holding onto the edge of the counter with both hands. She caught his eyes with her own. "I think I just saw something outside, sneaking around. No, don't...just act like you're talking to me, don't stare outside."
Bob immediately went into alert mode. He stepped to one side of her and grabbed a glass, drawing water from the faucet to fill it. He lifted the glass to his lips as his eyes went to the window, but he wasn't drinking. "Where?" he said behind the glass, barely moving his lips.
Bonnie wiped her hands on a kitchen towel. "To the left, those trees beside the shed. Next to the stump where you cut firewood."
Bob cursed under his breath. "The axe is gone. I left it stuck in the top of the stump and now it's gone."
Bonnie felt herself go cold. "Are you sure? Maybe it just fell off. Maybe it's lying out there where you can't see it. Can't you see it?"
"No, I can't see it. It's gone. Go get Lucy and both of you go lock the doors, front and back. I'm going to stand here and watch the yard." He casually picked up the kitchen towel and slung it over one shoulder, then picked up a dish and held it at eye level, pretending to scrub at a spot with one finger, all the while looking past it out the window. Bonnie walked quickly to Lucy, gathered the little girl up into her arms and scurried to the front door to throw the deadbolt.
"Walk, don't run," Bob said without raising his voice. "Don't run, don't act alarmed. As soon as you have the doors locked, go close Lucy in the master bedroom and get my rifles out of the gun safe." He fished in one pocket for a key ring, dropped it on the floor and kicked it toward her. "Here are the keys. The gun safe key is the black one. Get a box of cartridges, too. Put it all on the floor of the hallway where no one can see it from a window." He started to whistle as he wiped the plate with the towel.
Her hands were shaking but she was calm as she did as he instructed. Lucy lay down and snuggled a blanket to herself as soon as Bonnie put her on the bed. Good. She would sleep now, Bonnie thought as she closed the bedroom door. She hurried to the gun safe, which was away from prying eyes, bolted to the wall in another bedroom. She gathered the guns and ammo and took them to the downstairs hallway and stacked them there, then went back and got a couple of handguns, too. She wasn't sure which ammo went to which guns, so she picked up several boxes just to be on the safe side. All this went with the rifles in the hall. She next went into Bob's bedroom and got a black jacket out of the closet and a pair of black gloves from the top of the dresser. These she also laid next to the weapons. Then she went back to the gun safe. She had noticed something on the shelf there, and she picked it up. It looked like an elaborate pair of binoculars, but with straps to hold it onto the head. The lenses looked different, with a strange housing. She thought she knew what it was and she decided it could come in handy, so she added it to the growing pile in the hallway.
When she went back into the kitchen she smiled at Bob, who was folding the towel to hang it over the handle to the oven. "All done," she said, "Lucy is going to sleep, I did what you said, and I got your jacket and some other stuff in the hall. Now what?"
"Now I do a recon," he replied grimly as he walked toward the hallway.
"Oh good girl!" she heard him exclaim from the hall, "thank you!" He sounded genuinely pleased, and she grinned in spite of her fears. She glanced toward the window. Now it was completely dark outside.
"Do you want me to turn on the outside lights?" she asked him. His father had installed floodlights that illuminated big swatches of the grounds, Bob had told her, so the family could switch them on and enjoy the sight of deer feeding in the yard. He said his mother had joked that it was so they could watch the deer eat her petunias, which his father had never liked, and it became a running joke in the family.
"No," Bob said quietly. "I want it dark out there. That gives me the advantage."
She stepped into the hall and gasped. He was dressed all in black, the black sweatpants and running shoes he had already been wearing and now the black jacket, and the black night vision goggles he was fastening on his head with velcro strips. Now he bent and picked up a handgun; he pulled back the slide, checked it, and tucked it into a black holster strapped to his left side. He picked up one of the rifles, slapped a clip into it, and slung it over his left shoulder.
"Do you know how to handle a handgun?" he asked as he grabbed one off the floor.
She shook her head mutely, her heart pounding wildly, her hands damp and cold.
"Do you know how to handle a handgun?" he asked as he grabbed one off the floor.
She shook her head mutely, her heart pounding wildly, her hands damp and cold.
"Okay then, it's better you don't carry one. Go lock yourself into the bedroom with Lucy and stay there. Take my cellphone. If something happens to me, if someone comes into the house, go out the window and get to the car and get the hell out of here. Don't try to look for me. I can take care of myself. Worry about you and Lucy. You still have the keys? Good. Put on a jacket now and put them into the pocket so you don't lose them if there's any excitement. Now follow me to the door and lock it behind me."
At the door he flipped the light switch, throwing the hallway into darkness. He put a gloved hand up to her face, his fingertips lightly grazing her cheek. "Don't forget, lock yourself in the bedroom. Stay there. If you have to, go out the window with Lucy and get out." She shivered as he silently opened the door and paused halfway out. "I love you, Bonnie," he whispered, his eyes locked on hers.
"I...I think I love you too, Bob." She was shaking now, and not all from the cold air coming in through the door.
"Good." He grinned at her, then was gone.
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Post by ColcordMama on May 17, 2012 20:36:22 GMT -7
27.
Why had she blurted that out? Why? Did she mean it? She must have, since she said it! Bonnie leaned against the door as she locked it. She put her head to the door, listening, but there was no sound from the other side. She took a jacket off the peg beside the door and put it on and dropped the keys into the pocket, then she stood there in the dark, heart hammering, wondering what was going on. Now she ran on tiptoes back up to the master bedroom and locked herself inside. Thank God this bedroom had a lock on the door, although it was just a standard thumb lock and wouldn't hold up against a determined intruder. She sat down on the end of the bed and listened. Lucy was breathing deeply, sound asleep. The only sound from outside was the creak of branches from the nearest pine tree as they swayed slightly in a breeze. The same breeze scattered a fistful of dry leaves across the wood plank floor of the covered porch across the back of the house, and she jumped at the sound.
Why had she said that? What would he think now? She hoped he wouldn't expect her to fall into his arms in gratitude when he came back. She just wasn't like that. She was cautious in matters of the heart now, since Nick. She wasn't going to be drawn into another abusive relationship no matter what. Not that Bob was like that. Not at all. Nick was another issue. He had started out slow after their too-early marriage. She had been swept away by his bad-boy appeal, his swagger and strut and big talk. What did she know? She had barely been out of high school when he had strolled into the coffee shop where she was waitressing. He had summoned her to his table with a glint in his eye and a crook of his finger, and that smile that was to make her knees go weak. What did she know of the world then? How could she have predicted his abusive words that turned into blows only a few weeks into their marriage? She was little more than a child herself then, and soon pregnant as well. She shuddered as she remembered those months of suffering, the long nights when he would be gone with his buddies until early morning, the wahy he would yell at her when she wanted to know where he had been, and with whom. It was all her fault, she drove him to it. He pounded that into her with words and blows.
She finally found relief back at the coffee shop, waitressing again and heavy with Lucy, but even the hours on her feet were nothing compared to staying home and being treated like a dog. Worse than a dog. Her boss, Margie, was easy on her and let her take frequent breaks, even taking on some of Bonnie's customers when the place was too busy. Bonnie knew that Margie was onto what Nick was doing. Once while Bonnie was sitting in the back room, catching her breath, her sleeve slipped up, exposing a greenish yellow fading bruise on her upper arm. Nick, of course. He'd grabbed her there as she was trying to leave for work a few days ago, shouting at her about something. Margie happened to be standing there and saw it. She came over, pushed the sleeve farther up with one red-nailed finger, looked at it and shook her head.
"You gonna tell me you ran into a wall or somethin'?" she said sarcastically. But Bonnie knew better, and she knew the sarcasm was just a front for Margie's kind-heartedness. She shook her head. "No, I didn't run into a wall. Nick got mad at me."
Yeah, I figured as much. You gotta leave that son of a bitch, hon." Now her voice was softer, her eyes sympathetic. She didn't wait for Bonnie's answer, just grabbed a gray cleanup bin and went out through the swinging doors.
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Post by ColcordMama on May 17, 2012 20:38:42 GMT -7
28. There was a sound outside. Bonnie stood up and turned toward the window there in the dark bedroom. It came again, and she recognized it as the cry of one of the black birds that hung around. There weren't a lot of birds in the forest now. Maybe it was the approaching winter weather, maybe it was disease. She was glad to hear the bird call. Birds seemed to generally stay quiet at night, but maybe something startled this one. She wanted the birds to come back to the forest again. She wanted Bob to come back. It was scary in the house waiting for him. He said he was going to recon. That sounded like a military term. She knew it meant go out and look around. What if she heard a gunshot? What should she do? Take Lucy and go out the window, but which window? She should think about that, be ready for anything. It wasn't helping anything to sit on the bed in the dark and review old memories, sad memories at that. She felt again in her pocket for the keys, made sure they were still there. She got Lucy's coat off the dresser and laid it on the bed near the sleeping child. There. Now it would be handy if she had to take Lucy and go. Lucy made a sucking sound in her sleep and stirred under the covers, getting into a more comfortable position.
Bonnie walked to a window and stood on one side of it, looking out. She was pretty sure she couldn't be seen standing ther behind the drape of the curtain, which was pushed to one side. There was very little moonlight tonight. She could make out the shapes of trees and a lighter patch where the ground was bare of pine needles, and beyond that, the dark form of the shed. Nothing else. She relaxed a little. What had she seen? Could it have even been a trick of the light? A branch waving in the breeze? A squirrel running up the tree, moving around to the back side of the trunk just as she spotted the tail? Now that she thought of it, that seemed highly likely. A squirrel had a bushy tail, and they did run up trees. They didn't just run straight up the trunk, but moved around the tree as they scampered up. That was probably it. She had seen a squirrel tail flicking around the back of a tree as its owner scurried up the trunk. Now she felt like such a fool, making all this fuss over nothing, causing Bob to go out into the night to skulk around draped with weapons, wearing night vision goggles. She sighed in disgust with herself and stepped closer to the window to look out. Maybe she could spot him and call to him, tell him it had all been a mistake, to come in and forget this nonsense. But as she did, as she moved closer to the glass, she suddenly saw the stump where Bob chopped big logs into smaller pieces for the fireplace, and she remembered the missing axe. The one Bob said he had left stuck into the top of the stump. The stump that now showed in an errant patch of moonlight as a bare pale circle, clearly in view, no axe there at all. And it was at that moment she heard the terrified pounding of feet across the yard, out of her line of sight.
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Post by ColcordMama on May 17, 2012 20:39:59 GMT -7
29.
Bonnie had Lucy up, quickly bundled in her coat, and was standing by the opened bedroom window, getting ready to climb through with Lucy and drop to the roof of the back porch, when she heard Bob call to her from the yard below.
"Hey, come unlock the back door, okay?"
She paused, uncertain what to do. Lucy began to cry as the cold air from the window blew into the room. "Okay, hold on, just a sec." she called back into the darkness. He didn't sound alarmed. She trusted him. If there was something wrong, he would never allow someone to lure her into a trap. She closed the window with one hand and trotted downstairs with Lucy. Bonnie could hear Bob stamping his feet on the porch as she fumbled to open the door.
"Is it okay?" she stammered as soon as he came inside. "What happened? I heard someone running! Is everything all right?"
"Sure, it's fine. There's nobody out there." He unzipped his jacket, took off his gloves and rubbed his hand together, blowing on them to warm them, then locked the door again and flipped on the light. "What you heard was a deer I spooked. Came up behind it out there on the other side of the garage and it took off like greased lightning!" He chuckled and flashed a big grin at Lucy, who stopped crying and was now staring at Bob with wet eyes, sniffling and sucking one finger.
"Wassamatta, Lucy? Don't cwy, it's aw wight," he crooned to her, and she giggled.
"So what happened?" Bonnie was tired and shaken. She had almost gone out a second floor window into the cold night with her child, and was in no mood for babytalk and games.Bob gently took her arm and guided her back to the safety and comfort of the big room with its fireplace muttering and snapping away. Bonnie sat Lucy on the rug, took off her jacket and plopped herself down on the couch next to Bob. The warmth and Bob's calm attitude was beginning to soothe her jangled nerves.
"So what happened out there?" she repeated. "Where's the axe? Did you see anything?"
Now Bob put one arm around her shoulder and drew her closer to him, patting her shoulder. She let herself be snuggled into the curve next to his side. His hand was cold, and she could feel him shivering a little under his flannel shirt.
"I'm such an idiot," he said quietly. "The axe is beside the firewood stacked on the back porch, right where I left it. When I got outside, I saw it right away and remembered I'd put it there for safekeeping." He sighed. "I'm sorry I scared you by saying it should have been stuck in the stump. Like I said, I'm an idiot." She shifted to look at his face and started to protest, but he held up one hand to quiet her and continued. "There is nothing, no one, out there. Well, that deer I startled. But nothing else. I came around the corner and scared it. I think it was trying to bed down in that dead grass back there. It took off like the devil was behind it! But there's nothing else out there. I don't know what you saw, but it couldn't have been a person."
Now it was her turn to be embarrassed. "Well, I was thinking about that. Could it have been a squirrel? Maybe what I saw was the fluffy tail, as it ran up the tree?"
Bob was still for a second, then laughed quickly and quietly. "That's it, then. There was a squirrel up in one of those trees. I could hear it chittering when I walked past. So that solves the mystery!" He cuddled her a little closer and sighed contentedly. She could feel his heartbeat through the flannel shirt. She sighed too. Somewhere in the rafters a beam creaked as it settled. The light from the fireplace jumped and flichjered and threw dancing shadows across the hearth. Lucy lay down on the rug and stared at the fireplace as she sucked her finger. Bonnie turned and looked at Bob again. In the yellow light he had a noble profile, a slight smile touching his lips. He was calm, strong, comforting and in control. And right now to her, handsome.
"All's well that ends well," Bob murmured thoughtfully, "and we can both benefit from this experience if we consider it a practice run. Next time will be better."
"Next time?" Bonnie said, "there can't be a next time. There probably won't be a next time."
He turned now and looked at her, cocking his head to one side. "Oh yes, there will be a next time. Count on it. I feel it in my bones. But we'll be fine if we're ready." And then he kissed her, very softly, on the cheek
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