EMP 1500 MILES FROM HOME (3 page)

"Yes Ma'am," I said. After all she had the gun (or guns). "My name is Wayne Zane."

"Wayne Zane?"

"I would show you my driver's license, but it was stolen."

She laughed, "I think you may have this thief thing backwards, Wayne."

"Yes Ma'am," I replied trying not to crack a smile. "Anyway, I am a sales representative for a company in Indiana that sells industrial equipment and storage solutions. I was in Socorro trying to make a sale when the lights went out."

"Ever been in the military?"

"No Ma'am."

"Can you shoot?"

"Yes Ma'am. My pa-in-law taught me. He is retired special forces."

"Good," She paused. "But the important question is will you shoot if need be?"

Thinking back to the two men who robbed and tried to kill me, I said, "yes Ma'am, I will."

"OK, have you ever shot or killed anyone?"

"No Ma'am."

"Do you hunt?"

"I have hunted some with Cap, my pa-in-law."

"Good. From the ring on your finger I take it you are married?"

"Yes Ma'am. My wife Lucy and I have a son. His name is Ben. He is seven."

"Well Wayne, you seem fairly normal."

"Ma'am, may I ask your name?"

"My name is Julie, Julie Hoffman. I was born and raised on a ranch near Mountainair—that is here in New Mexico."

"Yes ma'am, I know where it is."

"Well Wayne, you surprise me a bit. Anyway, I have been working at New Mexico Tech in Socorro, but I was laid off a few months ago; budget cuts they say."

"Yes Ma'am. I was laid off a few years ago and had to find another job."

"Were you a salesman in that job too?"

"No Ma'am, I was carpenter."

"That's good. Maybe it's best you weren't an electrician?" We both laughed.

"Yes Ma'am."

"Anyway, I grew up on a ranch, got a degree from the University of New Mexico in economics, and have worked in Socorro for the last 14 years." She looked me over. "I would guess I am about ten years older than you?"

"I am 32," I replied.

"Well five years then. You look a bit younger than your age."

"You too Ma'am," I replied.

"Are you hitting on me, Thief?"

"No Ma'am. I just tell it like I see it."

"Not the best trait for a salesman, I would say."

"Yes Ma'am. It has cost me a sale or three."

"OK, Thief. I have a proposition for you."

"Are you hitting on me, Ma'am?" I grinned.

"Don't you wish, Boy," she smiled. "No, I think we need to team up for a while. I need to get home to the ranch and you are traveling east. Your best route will take you close to our ranch. I know the area well, but two guns are better than one."

"Ma'am, you have a partner," I said. Julie smiled.

We both jumped up when we heard the voices. Julie plucked her pistol from her apron and tossed me the Remington 870 pump shotgun just as the door burst open and three men rushed into the room.

Wayne

Without thinking I raised the shotgun, checking to be sure the safety was off with my trigger finger as the gun came up, and fired three times.

In a few seconds I realized I was pointing the gun at three dead men lying almost stacked on top of each other in the doorway. Two of them had pistols. The third had a machete.

"Damn, Wayne," Julie said, "you are the quickest man with a shotgun I have ever seen."

"Yes Ma'am," I replied. "We had better check the perimeter. I bent down and recovered a Glock from one of the dead men. "Do you know how to use this?"

She took it from my hand and nodded. I picked up the other pistol, a Colt pattern .45 auto, rocked the slide back slightly, saw the glint of a chambered round, set the safety, and stuck the pistol in my hip pocket.

Julie, holding her revolver in one hand, and the Glock in the other, peeked out of the window. "It looks clear," she whispered.

I nodded. "Stay here," I whispered, and rolled out of the door, off the porch, and then under the porch. No one shot at me. There was no movement. I watched carefully for twenty minutes, only taking time out to throw up. Still nothing.

Julie

I was shocked at how fast everything happened. In just a few seconds the three intruders were lying dead in the doorway, bleeding all over my rented trailer. If Wayne had not been there I would have been dead, or worse. I have never seen anyone handle a shotgun that fast. The three shots were almost indistinguishable from one other.

I was still shaking when Wayne stepped outside to see if there were any more intruders. Though my pistol was in my hand, and my dad taught me to shoot when I was just a little girl, I had not fired a single shot. For a little while I was afraid of Wayne, this overly tall man who killed so quickly. Then I heard him retching outside. It was then that
The Knowing
took over and I lost my fear of Wayne. My knowing told me a lot more about Wayne, and me, but I have been known to be wrong. Besides, he wore a ring on his finger and I could tell he was not the kind of man to take that lightly. Yes,
The Knowing
is a gift, but this time it left me confused.

Wayne

Cap told me that combat was often a waiting game, and the best waiter would win—unless, of course, the enemy charges with overwhelming force. I think they tried their version of overwhelming force the first time.

I slipped out from under the porch and skirted the perimeter, keeping to cover the way Cap taught me. The taste of vomit was strong in my mouth.

I found the tracks where three guys came up the driveway. There were no other tracks except mine anywhere on the perimeter. There must have been only the three of them.

I was worried about the neighbors, but no one came to see what the commotion was about. I went back to the trailer. At the trailer, Julie kept watch with the reloaded shotgun while I went through the men's pockets. Each of my shots struck center mass and blew their spines through their backs. It was a gory sight. I almost vomited again, but managed to hold it in and do what I had to do.

Useful gear we salvaged from the three marauders included: one .45 semi-auto pistol with two magazines and 11 rounds, one 9mm Glock 17 with one magazine and 14 rounds, one machete, one old case pocket knife with three very dull blades, two cheap plastic butane lighters, one battery-powered wristwatch, and twenty-seven dollars and some change.

I wasn't surprised to find an expensive iPhone in each man's pocket. However, right now the only way to reach out and touch someone with a cell phone was to throw it at them.

"Not much stuff," Julie said, shaking her head.

"The guns are useful."

"Yeah, but it is kind of sad. They had so little."

"Enough to kill us if we weren't lucky."

"I see what you mean."

I dragged the bodies into the sparse mesquite, one at a time. I didn't bury them, but I left them several hundred yards from the trailer.

Once that was done, I circled the area again. I saw nothing. No one moved. None of the residences seemed to be occupied. I went back to Julie's trailer.

Julie

I started cleaning up the trailer. With no water it was difficult and not very effective. I was still trying to clean up when Wayne returned. The expression on his face told me that he felt sick over what happened.

Wayne seemed a paradox of sorts, a man who was courteous, obviously caring, and even gentle, yet a man who could kill more quickly that I ever thought possible. He was a throwback to older times. I remembered the stories my dad and grandfather told me of the Old West. Many of the men they most admired were like that—strong, decisive, and kind. I wasn't completely sure about kind yet, but I was sure my dad would take to Wayne immediately. That was part of
The Knowing
.

Wayne

Julie had most of the mess wiped up. She used all the paper towels, but she didn't use any water from the jug, smart woman, that one.

"We need to put some kit together and move along as soon as we can," I said.

"I was thinking the same thing," Julie said. "Besides, I am ready to start toward the ranch."

We both scrounged through her trailer and put together a makeshift camping kit. Once we had everything that looked potentially useful piled onto the kitchen table and the sofa, I went through the pile getting rid of extras. I knew we would have to travel fast and far, so I didn't want us to be too loaded down.

"I chose one small, lightweight pot, two forks, and two spoons, a very dull Old Hickory 7-inch butcher knife, a small folding pruning saw, two blankets, two bath towels, all the toilet paper, all the matches, the two butane lighters, a small pair of binoculars, all of the string and cordage—which was not a lot, a 6' x 8' plastic tarp, two empty gallon water jugs, plus the one with a bit of water left in it. I also piled up all of the canned goods and a few boxes of crackers Julie had in her pantry.

Of course, the guns were going. The .22 revolver and the 12 gauge shotgun were the only guns Julie had. She had less than a box of shells for each. Fortunately, the 12 gauge shells were buckshot.

"That isn't much," Julie said as she looked over the now much smaller pile of stuff.

"Are any of your neighbors gone? Do you think there is any chance we can find a rifle in one of your neighbor's houses?"

"I don't know," Julie said. "I have only been here a few months and I haven't met any of the neighbors yet. I do know the guy across the street works in Albuquerque and I don't think he was home when the lights went out."

"I sure would like to have a rifle on this walk," I said.

"Let's have a look in his place before we leave then," Julie said.

I handed her the Glock and took the .45, and we left the house trailer. We approached the neighbor's house slowly and carefully, coming up on it from a blind spot on one corner. I went to the back door, put my ear against it, and listened. Not a sound for over ten minutes. The house seemed empty.

"Care to join me in some thievery?" I asked Julie.

"Don't mind if I do, Thief."

I put my shoulder to the door and it opened with a bit of noise as the lock broke. We both stood back from the door, but nothing happened. I waited ten minutes and then pushed the door open with my foot, keeping my body away from the door opening. I tossed a fist-sized rock through the open door. It crashed on the floor, but there was no response. Either the guy was a pro, or no one was home. I hoped no one was home as I slipped through the door with the .45 at the ready.

The house was empty. Looking around, I guessed the guy was a computer nerd. There were several computers and stacks of computer games. We went through everything in the house. He seemed to have no outdoor equipment at all. We did find an old hunting knife and sheath, which I gave to Julie.

We found a dozen bottles of water in his refrigerator. We loaded those into an old grocery sack. We also added some canned goods and a few packages of cookies to our stash. There wasn't much food in the house, but that seemed to be the modern way—one that Cap complained about on a number of occasions.

Then, in the back corner of a closet, I found an old surplus WWII Russian battle rifle. It was a Mosin Nagant, the long version with attached folding bayonet. On the shelf in the closet I found five boxes of 7.62 x 54 cartridges—100 rounds. The rifle had been crudely cleaned of packing grease, but needed a better cleaning and oiling.

These rifles were very inexpensive a few years ago, selling for less than a hundred bucks. I figured the guy bought it, cleaned it up some, and stuck it in the closet 'just in case'. It didn't seem to have been fired since he bought it.

"Is that old thing any good?" Julie asked.

"It will do nicely until we can get something with more firepower."

"Do you think it will shoot?"

"Most likely," I said. "These old Russian rifles are built like a tank. I need to clean it up at bit and it will be fine. The cartridge is about the equivalent of a .308, or a little more powerful. It is a good find."

"Don't you mean a good steal?"

"Well, there is that..."

We both laughed and went back to Julie's trailer carrying our freshly stolen goods.

Yeti

I took the old six-foot-long cart from the orphanage barn and filled it with some of my stuff and as much water as I could scrounge in every container I could scrounge. I knew those at the orphanage could get water from the stock tank just a few hundred yards away. I also took my share of food from the orphanage pantry. I did all of this at night while the others were sleeping.

It did occur to me that maybe I should stay and see if I could help take care of the other orphans and Mrs. Sanger who ran the orphanage, but I had no friends among them, including Mrs. Sanger. All the other orphans made fun of me because I was different. I was taller, stronger, heavier (fatter really), slower on my feet, and much, much smarter than any of them and they didn't like me.

They didn't like me because I was different, and they didn't like me because they each needed someone to ridicule to make them feel better about themselves. I could have told them that wouldn't work, but no one listened to me. In my entire life, spent mostly at this, and other orphanages, no one ever listened to me.

I left just before dawn, pulling the cart behind me. In just three miles I was tired, in spite of numerous rest stops, so I pulled the cart out of sight, and went to sleep in the back of the cart. I knew it was dangerous, but I was too tired to worry about it.

Wayne

It would be dark in about two hours, so we got our stuff together in two makeshift backpacks. I took the heavy one and Julie the lighter one and we left. We walked into the high desert, keeping I-25 in sight on our right as we walked north.

After an hour of walking, we looked around for a good place to camp. I found a low knoll that would hide us from view to the east, with a clump of mesquite just west of it that would conceal us well from the other directions. We cleared out a spot in the middle of the mesquite and made camp.

We stretched out the tarp and used small rocks to hold the edges down so it would stay flat in the ubiquitous New Mexico wind. I dug a Dakota fire pit with the old butcher knife and my hands.

"What are you doing? Digging a latrine in the middle of camp? I am not that kinky, Wayne."

"Me either Julie, this is a Dakota fire pit. The flames won't show, and if we use small pieces of dry wood, there will be almost no smoke. It uses less firewood to cook too."

"I have never seen a fire pit with a tunnel, but I have only done car and horse camping."

"If it weren't for Cap's teachings, I wouldn't know anything about this either."

"I think I would like this Cap guy."

"I think you would. He can be a little harsh at times, but he always means well."

"Is he the one who taught you to shoot like that."

"My dad taught me the basics of how to shoot when I was ten, but Cap taught me everything else. I never once thought I would use anything Cap taught me. I mostly just went along with it all because Lucy, my wife, insisted."

"I am glad she did."

"Right now, I am too." I said. "I think I am just beginning to understand how wise Cap really is. I am so glad he is there to take care of Lucy and Ben through this. Heck, if I was there, he would be taking care of me as well."

Once I had the fire going, I showed Julie how to cook on the Dakota Fire pit. While Julie was cooking I found a suitable rock and started sharpening the butcher knife. I got a workable edge, but not as sharp as I liked. I decided to keep my eye out for a better sharpening stone tomorrow as we walked. I laughed quietly to myself. The first sharpening stones were just that—stones. Nothing really changes.

Now that there were no stores, we were just scavengers, and much less knowledgeable about using nature to our advantage than our primitive forebears. Like Cap said, it was time to make do, or do without. I preferred to make do and hoped I was capable enough to succeed.