Stryker: A Post-Apocalyptic Tale (9 page)

Four hours later,
Stryker woke up, got dressed, brushed his teeth, and went back to the living
room. Some of the women sat chatting and Haley was speaking softly to the girl.
He carried his M-4 in his right hand.

“When did she start
talking?” Stryker asked.

“Right after you
went to bed. I think she’s more comfortable around women.”

“What did she say?”

“Short version is
that her dad went to find food and she went out and played in the front yard.
The trucks drove by and snatched her. Her mother is ‘with God,’ and she’s
worried that her dad will be mad at her because she wasn’t supposed to go
outside.”

“Does she want to
go home?”

“Yes.”

“You know where she
lives?”

“2321 Elm Street,
Baton Rouge.” The little girl spoke the address by rote. “Her parents obviously
made her memorize it.”

“What’s her name?”

“Mary.”

“Mary. What a
pretty name. Are you sure you want to go home?” Stryker asked softly after
taking a knee in front of her. She nodded without looking up.

“You know where Elm
Street is?” Stryker asked Haley.

“Yes.”

“Keep the pistol.
I’m going to wake up your grandpa and then you and I can take her home.”
Stryker left the room and woke Sarge up by gently shaking his shoulder.

“What now?” Sarge
grumbled.

“The girl has a
father and Haley knows the address of the house. Can you get up and keep an eye
on things?”

“Sure.” He got out
of bed and started lacing his boots. A few minutes later, he entered the dining
room. Stryker handed him a cup of coffee and sipped his own as both men
struggled to become fully awake.

“How far away is
the house?” Stryker asked.

“About 10 miles or
so,” Haley replied.

“We’ll be back in
around forty minutes,” Stryker said. “Haley, write the address down on paper
and give it to your grandpa, please.”

Haley gave Stryker
directions as they moved toward the girl’s home. They got onto a freeway
briefly, then exited on a secondary road. After a few minutes, they saw the
sign for Elm Street. It was lined with old elm trees and the neighborhood
reeked of money and influence.
Houses sat further back from the street, brick
replaced siding, shade covered the sidewalks, and the lawns fell away from the
street like green bays and inlets of a lake. The neighborhood was serene, time
honored, and immersed in the symbols of privilege and class.

They stopped in front of Mary’s house, a
soaring Victorian structure set at the end of the street amid massive leafy
trees. It was impressive, even grand by any standard. The house towered over
the nearest homes like a European cathedral over village huts, dominating the
block with a royal quality. A long, stately walk found its junction with a
flight of brick steps under the porch, where a swing-mounted love seat hung
from the ceiling. The structure lay protected behind an iron fence peaked with
spearheads at the tip of each bar.

“That’s my house,” Mary said. They got
out of the pickup and were moving toward the gate when the front door exploded
open and a thin, tall man burst through and ran to the gate. He fumbled with a
key and managed to get it open, rushed through, and swept Mary into his arms.

“My God! He said. “Where were you?” They
let Mary recount her story as the man wept and repeatedly hugged her. Stryker
examined Mary’s father carefully. He noted bird-like hands and well-maintained
fingernails, neatly trimmed. He wore pressed cargo pants and a tucked-in,
buttoned-down shirt.

“I don’t know how to thank you,” he
said. “My name is John.” He stood and offered his hand, and both Stryker and
Haley shook with him. Stryker continued to observe John and noted he seemed
afraid of the rifle and would not maintain eye contact. His cheeks were covered
with the red blooms of broken blood vessels, his eyes were watery, and his
hands shook gently.

“May I have a private word with you?”
Stryker asked.

“Of course.” The two men moved out of
earshot.

“None of my business, I admit, but I
have to tell you that we just got done killing eleven men to get some other
women and your daughter away from some very bad guys. Trouble has come to your
door already, and it will come again. I am guessing you don’t have any weapons?
Is that correct?”

“I don’t like guns,” the man whispered,
looking away.

“Mary’s not going to do well with a
defenseless drunk taking care of her. Think that over.” The man looked as
though he had been slapped across the face. Stryker went to the pickup, grabbed
a holstered Glock and three magazines taken from Brody’s gang, walked back, and
handed it to John. “I have real reservations arming an untrained alcoholic, but
that’s the world we live in now. I’d go to a library and read up on weapon
safety if I was you.” He looked at Haley and jerked his head toward the pickup.

“We need to go now, Mary,” Haley said.

“Okay. And thank you for bringing me
home.” Haley and Stryker exchanged uncertain glances and Haley kissed the top
of Mary’s head.

“Be good and be careful, okay?” Mary
nodded solemnly. Stryker nodded at John, and they got in the pickup and started
back to the house.

“I really hope we did the right thing
taking her back,” Haley said. She apparently shared Stryker’s opinion of John.

“There was nothing else we could do. If
we kept her against her will, that would make us the same as Brody and his
gang. I don’t like it, but I’m old enough to know that life is a series of
unpleasant choices. I didn’t want to arm the man either. Between knowing
nothing about guns and having a clear alcohol problem that was a hard one to
call.”

“Why did you do it?”

“He has a chance of straightening out and
learning how to use the pistol safely. He has zero chance of surviving and
protecting Mary if both those things don’t happen; frankly, I doubt they will.”

“Mr. Sunshine,” she sighed.

Sarge and Erin were
sitting on the porch talking when they arrived back at the house. The sun was
just starting to merge with the horizon when they turned off the engine and
joined them.

“What are you
talking about?” Haley asked.

“What to do next,”
Erin replied.

“About what?”

“Where everyone is
going.”

“I thought we were
going to Stryker’s ranch.”

“I guess we are.
But the others haven’t decided what they want to do.”

“That’s pretty
crazy,” Stryker said. “Maybe you two could make it on your own. They wouldn’t
have a chance.”

“I know,” Erin
replied. “We think we need to convince them to stay with us.”

“Is dinner ready?”
Stryker asked.

“Ten minutes.”

“Is there a well
here?”

“In the back yard.
Hand operated.”

“I gotta wash up.
Let’s talk to them over dinner.” Erin shrugged and Stryker walked through the
house, listening to the other women chatting about where they wanted to go. He
shook his head, walked through the kitchen, snagged a towel and a bar of hand
soap, and went out the back door.

He took his shirt
off, filled a bucket by the pump and lathered up, then rinsed off. After he
dried himself with the towel, he put his shirt back on and went into the house.
When he reentered the kitchen, Erin and Haley were furiously stirring something
in a pot and adding spices to it.

“Are we ready to
eat?” Stryker asked.

“Yes. Call the others
and we can all serve ourselves. Can you get some water for us too?” Erin asked.
“The well water is good so why waste the bottled water.”

“Good thinking.”
She handed him two large pitchers and he returned to the well, filled them,
came back to the house, and set the pitchers on the kitchen table.

“Dinner,” Haley
yelled. Soon everyone was serving themselves spaghetti with a tomato sauce that
contained mostly canned vegetables and bits of spam. Everyone moved to the
dining room and took a seat.

“We want to talk to
you about staying with the group,” Erin started between bites of food.

“I’m going along,”
Elle said. “My parents were in Europe when the plague hit. Even if they’re
alive, I don’t know how they would get back here. I really don’t have any
choice, unless I go with Jenna or Mia.”

“I haven’t decided
yet,” Jenna said. “But my parents live in San Antonio – or they did – so I can
always just leave from the ranch once we get there. How far is it to San
Antonio from there?” she asked.

“About two hours by
car,” Stryker answered.

“What about you?”
Erin asked Mia.

“My home is in
upstate Maine. It’s the other direction and I think I have to try to get home
and see if my parents are alive.”

“Before you do
that, can Sarge and I talk with you?”

“Of course.”

“We’ve been out
there and it’s not pretty. The cities are filled with bodies and the stench is
so bad you can’t even get close to them. The countryside is better, but still
dangerous. There are going to be other men like the ones who took you captive.”
Stryker paused for a moment and saw he was getting nowhere. Her brow was
puckered into a row of stubborn folds. “I hate to say this, but there is no
chance they are alive. Or, at least not enough of one to be worth the risk. The
people here are alive because they had unique situations. You guys had the good
luck to talk to the doctor who told you how to get through it. I think Sarge’s
family must be immune. And I think I’m immune.”

“My parents might
be immune, too, and they live on a farm. I think it’s possible they survived
and I have to find out. If you give me a map, I can always catch up with you if
I’m wrong.”

“We can’t do that,”
Stryker replied. “I can’t have a map of our location getting into the wrong
hands. I’m sorry, but I can’t do that. But there’s a town call San Angelo,
Texas, about two hours from my ranch. Every Saturday they have a trading post.
As far as I know, it’s the only one in the state and the last time I went there
were eighty people there. There were close to thirty million people in the
state before the plague. Think about that.”

“I have to go,” she
repeated.

“Okay, if your
parents aren’t alive, meet me at the trading post. I usually go every week. If
I can’t make it, someone from our group will be there around noon.”

The group fell silent
and quietly finished their meals. It was getting dark and Erin disappeared into
the basement and came back with two kerosene lanterns, a camping light, and two
flashlights. Haley and Elle cleared the table and washed the dishes in a pail
of water sitting on the countertop. Haley wasn’t quite sure why they were doing
it, since they were leaving in the morning; but leaving a pile of dirty dishes
in the sink just seemed wrong. They both went to bed after doing the dishes.

 “We can get
Mia ready in the morning,” Erin said.

“Don’t encourage
her,” Sarge grumbled. Mia and Jenna left for a bedroom where they would share
the bed. Elle also went to bed. Sarge, Stryker, and Erin remained at the table,
bathed in the glow from the lantern.

“We can get her
geared up in the morning and find another car somewhere around here,” Stryker
said.

“You could have
tried harder,” Erin sighed.

“Erin, he did try,”
Sarge said. “But you’re talking to two men who willingly ordered their best
friends into combat knowing some of them were going to die. She apparently has
a death wish, and how much time and effort should we expend to try to convince
her not to do something so stunningly stupid? We can’t force her to come with
us. Quite frankly, if she’s that dumb or stubborn, or whatever, she probably
would be a liability.” Erin fell silent.

“Ease up, Sarge.
She’s been through a lot.”

“We need to see
what’s in the basement tomorrow before we go. There might be stuff we could
use,” Erin said quietly.

“All right. I’m
going to bed.” Sarge got up and left. Erin went to the basement. and came back
up with two sleeping bags.

“I got the floor
and you can take the couch,” she announced.

“No, I got the
floor.”

“I saw that zipper
scar up your spine when you were cleaning up. You must have a bad back, so take
the couch.”

“I sleep better on
a hard surface. It’s better for me to be on the floor.”

“You sure?” she
asked doubtfully.

“Yes.” Stryker
stripped down to his shorts and got into the bag beside the couch, laying his
M-4 to his side. Erin covered herself with the sleeping bag, still fully
clothed. Stryker tuned the lamp off and rolled over, exhausted and ready to
sleep.

“Stryker?” Erin
asked.

“Yeah.”

“What’s your first
name? I asked grandpa, but he didn’t know.”