Authors: Darrell Maloney
He headed for the door, then stopped and turned around.
“And, Joel… just a reminder. That bed’s only made for one.”
“Don’t worry,” the nurse responded.
“I’ll keep him in check until you get back.”
Chapter 13
As Bryan and his driver “Bryan Too” neared the city of San Angelo, the highway took on the appearance of a bad apocalypse movie. Abandoned cars sat lined up for several miles, as though stuck perpetually in a traffic jam.
And actually, that was exactly what happened. Only it didn’t happen recently.
Even the southbound lanes were clogged with northbound traffic, as were both shoulders.
“I’d heard from Marty Haskins, our truck driver friend, that vigilantes in San Angelo built a big roadblock to keep outsiders out. This must be the result.”
The two parked at the end of the line of cars and got out to survey the scene.
“This reminds me of that TV show, the one about the zombies,” Bryan Too said.
“Yeah, I remember. A handful of people survived, and they went around killing zombies by smashing them in the head.”
“Yeah. Great show. I just hope we don’t come across any zombies. That’s the last thing I want to deal with.”
The scene almost resembled a huge car lot, with literally hundreds of cars which were now covered with heavy dust. Their undersides were choked with spider webs and tumbleweeds, and many of the tires had gone flat.
Most had shattered windows.
“I guess the wanderers got desperate and were searching for food.”
“I wonder how far it goes on.”
Bryan Too hopped up on the hood of a Kenworth tractor, then climbed to the top of the cab.
He let out a slow whistle.
“I can’t even see the end of it. It goes on for a couple of miles, at least.”
“Terrific. Hey, that Humvee can go overland, can’t it?”
“Sure. That’s what it was made for. As long as the soil isn’t too loose or too deep or too wet.”
“Well, I’m guessing wet isn’t a problem. It hasn’t rained in a couple of weeks. And it’s all farmland that hasn’t been plowed in several years. So I’m guessing softness isn’t a factor either. Can we try it?”
“Sure. I almost never get the chance to go off-roading in one of these things. It’s more fun than you can imagine.”
They walked back to the vehicle.
Bryan Too handed Bryan a pair of wire cutters.
“If you’ll walk over there and cut the barbed wire along the shoulder of the road, I’ll drive across the ditch and pick you up there.”
“Deal.”
For six miles the pair drove across farmers’ fields, barreled through stands of mesquite trees, and forded two streams.
When they finally made it to the end of the line of cars, they saw what stopped the traffic dead in its tracks.
There were four tractor trailers, parked across the roadway and its access roads, bumper to bumper. They effectively brought all traffic to a standstill in both directions.
The trucks had all their tires flattened, and were burned to a crisp, as were the first few abandoned cars in each of the lanes.
“I wonder why they flattened the tires and burned them.”
“I suppose to keep someone from trying to drive them out of the way. Or to shove them out of the way with other trucks. They probably burned the cars for the same reason. To keep the trucks back, so other trucks couldn’t get to them to shove them off the road.”
“But why would they do such a thing?”
“Marty told me they were vigilantes who got tired of outsiders coming into town and trying to take their supplies. That the power plant ran out of fuel and shut down. Then the water plant couldn’t process water anymore, so safe drinking water was at a premium.
“And the food was running out as well. So the vigilantes decided to keep what was left for their own citizens, and blocked all entries to the town to keep outsiders out.
“Marty said when they took the prisoners they arrested in Eden last year and took them to San Angelo, they had a hell of a time finding an open road into the city. He said they finally found a farm to market road that was clear. But only because someone had taken a bulldozer and shoved all the abandoned cars off the road.”
“So, it’s been awhile since the thaw. People are growing their own food now, and water is no longer a problem. Why do you think they haven’t cleared the roads yet?”
“I don’t know. Maybe the survivors got used to not having strangers come in and they like it that way. Or maybe they haven’t been able to set up a city government capable of overseeing such an operation. Can you imagine how much effort it would take to clear up this mess? I mean, there are several hundred, maybe even a thousand abandoned cars, big rigs and assorted equipment. Most of it will never run again. They’d have to drag each piece off, one at a time.
“And then what would they do with them?”
“I see your point.”
“Marty said that every highway going in and out of San Angelo is like this, except for the one farm road. He said it was clogged but not barricaded. For some reason when the vigilantes isolated themselves from the rest of the world, they forgot that one.”
“What did you mean, ‘prisoners they arrested’?”
“The little town we just came from, Eden, was overrun with hardened criminals. They were brutalizing the town’s citizens, raping and pillaging and killing without restraint.
“Some friends and I went in and tried our best to clean up the town by arresting the worst of them. We locked them up into the back of a big rig and Marty drove them to San Angelo for trial. Most of the rest of the gang thought we were coming back for them, and took off.
“Marty said they had a hell of a time getting into San Angelo. But I didn’t think it was this bad.”
Chapter 14
Mark returned to Hannah’s room after just a few minutes.
“They said I can’t use their radio until tonight. They said during the daytime it’s for official use only.”
“What’s not official about checking up on Sarah?”
“That’s what I asked them. They said official
military
business.”
“Well, pardon me.”
“I guess I can’t complain much. They’ve been treating me very well. And I couldn’t ask for a nicer group of people.”
“Whoa, this is the same bunch of people who almost killed you in a helicopter crash.”
“Accidents happen, baby. They invited us to go on their tour as a gesture of good will. If what they think happened is true, if the pilot suffered a massive heart attack, then there was no way to avoid the accident.”
“I don’t know. When you were in your coma I talked to a captain who came by to check on you. He said they were opening up a board of inquiry into the crash. They wanted to see if Colonel Montgomery broke any regulations when he had his pilot fly at treetop level at very high speed.”
“Why? What’s the point?”
“I don’t know. They just said they wanted answers.”
“For God’s sake. I know we got off on the wrong foot with Colonel Montgomery, but he turned out to be a very nice man. A little gruff, maybe. But he said he had to be that way in his line of work, and I believed him.
“And I liked him. It’s unfortunate what happened, but I don’t blame him for it. I wish they’d just drop it before they ruin a good man’s reputation.”
“I don’t see how you can
not
be angry. You could have died.”
Hannah turned to Joel and asked, “You got anything to add?”
“No. I’m enjoying watching the two of you fight. In fact, I think you should dump Mark over this issue. And in case you’ve forgotten, I’m available.”
“Fat chance. I love the big lug too much to dump him. Sorry.”
“Well, in that case I will give you my two cents. I knew Colonel Montgomery for quite awhile. They called our crew
the orphans
. Because every one of us had lost everyone in our families.
“All we had left was each other. So we kind of created our own family. The colonel was gruff, as you say. But he was a good man. And he couldn’t have prevented the crash, even if he’d been sitting in the co-pilot’s seat.”
It didn’t take long for Joel Hance and Mark Snyder to become friends, despite their professed love for the same woman.
“Oh, don’t pay any attention to Joel’s flirting,” Hannah told her husband. “I’ve heard that he flirts with anyone in a skirt.”
The nurse who brought Joel into Hannah’s room backed her up.
“That’s true. I’ve seen him in action and can testify to that. He’s even made passes at Nurse Ratchet.”
Joel said, “Hey, I stopped when she started flirting back.”
Then, as an afterthought, “And that’s not true. I don’t flirt with everyone in a skirt.”
“Name one woman in this hospital you haven’t proposed to or asked to honeymoon with or called ‘beautiful’ or ‘sweetheart.’”
Joel thought for a moment and was stumped.
“Well, okay. You’ve got me. But in my defense, it’s my father’s fault.”
Hannah’s jaw dropped. She was speechless.
Mark said, “Oh, this is gonna be good.”
“No, seriously. It’s my father’s fault. You see, he was a very good father and a very good man. Very wise for his years too.
“He taught me everything about how to be a man. Hunting, fishing, self-defense, baseball…
“But two of the most important things he taught me were about women. He said no matter where I went in life, or what I did, to always treat women with the utmost respect. Because if it weren’t for women none of us guys would be here.”
Hannah said, “True so far. Keep going.”
“He taught me that all women are beautiful. Every single one of them. Big, little, short, tall, black, white, blondes or redheads. It doesn’t matter. Every single woman is beautiful.”
Hannah said, “Still true. What was the second thing he taught you about us?”
“That you all need compliments. Continuously. He said compliments are nourishment for your souls. That just as your body needs food, your soul needs to know that you are beautiful, and desirable, and wanted, and admired.
“He said you can live for a few days without water. And you can live a few weeks without food. But that you cannot live, cannot really live, without flattery. He said that flattery, and knowing that you’re beautiful, is what puts the sparkle in a woman’s eyes. And that without that sparkle, you’re just going through the motions. Just using up your time on this earth without ever really living.
“And he said you’re not as happy. And that counts doubly for us men. Because we all know that when Mama’s not happy…”
Mark finished the sentence for him.
“Then
nobody
is happy.”
“Exactly. So you see, when you think I’m trying to make out with every living woman on earth… well, I am. But beyond that, I’m really providing nourishment for your souls. Enriching your lives.”
Hannah wasn’t convinced.
“But when I have a bad hair day, or a hard night’s sleep and my face is all puffy and my eyes are red, I have dark circles under my eyes and look like a raccoon. On those days I don’t feel pretty at all. If you came along and told me I was beautiful then, I wouldn’t believe you. And what good is false flattery if it’s obviously false?”
“Ah, but see, that’s the beauty of it… if you’ll pardon the pun. You’re always beautiful. It doesn’t matter that your hair’s not perfect or that you discovered a new wrinkle. You’re still the greatest creature God ever created and the reason we’re all here. And that, woman of my dreams, is beautiful.”
Hannah smiled.
“Joel, I think your father was a brilliant man.”
Mark wasn’t so complimentary.
“Joel, what
I
think is that you’re making the rest of us clowns look bad.
“You said your father also taught you baseball. Let’s stop all this beauty nonsense and talk ball for a while. Now
there’s
a beautiful subject.”
Chapter 15
For the first few days after they made it back to the Huckabees’ farmhouse, Martel wondered whether he’d hit his new woman too hard.
He’d gone through all the trouble of tying and gagging her thinking that at some point she’d come to and struggle with him.
Or, at the very least, starting screaming her head off for help.
But she never stirred, not at all. Not all the way to the pickup, and not after he dumped her unceremoniously into the pickup’s bed, like she was nothing more than a deer’s carcass.
When he got back to the farmhouse and tossed her back over his shoulder she whimpered a bit but nothing more.
He dumped her on the floor, still naked and tied at the hands and feet. But she was no more animated than the couch behind her.
The first hour he sat in a recliner and rested. He wasn’t getting any younger, and he hadn’t lifted weights in years. In prison there wasn’t much to do, so he spent his hour of rec time each day doing bench presses. His shoulders and back had been strong and broad, his biceps and triceps matching those in muscle magazines. In those days, he felt as though he could lift a Mack truck.
But those days were long gone now. He was still stronger than most men, and had the stamina to beat most men half his age.
But carrying the woman through the forest over his shoulders, as small as she was, still took a lot out of him.
As he rested, he made a promise to himself to start spending some time on the free weights he’d found in the farmhouse’s basement.
After an hour he stretched and wondered if she’d come to faster if she was more comfortable.
He got up intending to pick her up and place her on the couch.
As he approached her, though, her body decided it could wait no longer to relieve the pressure on her bladder.
Beneath her body, a round circle of urine darkened the light brown carpet.
“What the hell?”
Had Martel known a bit about physiology, he might have known that his victim’s mind somehow knew she wasn’t just sleeping. Her mind knew her body was injured and needed to recover.
And that she wasn’t going to be waking anytime soon.
But Martel wasn’t that smart.
A powerful scent of urine permeated the room, and Martel turned up his nose.
Instead of moving her to the couch and having her soil it, he knelt down beside her and slapped her face.
“Wake up, bitch. I didn’t go through all the trouble of bringing you here so you could sleep your life away. Wake up so we can have some fun.”
But Sarah didn’t wake up. She couldn’t feel the stinging pain as Martel slapped her cheeks again and again, until they were swollen and red.
She’d lost an awful lot of blood.
Her mind was in control, and had placed her body in preservation mode.