"I think I can manage that without ravaging you. However, if you want to be ravaged just say the word, or better yet, whistle." I smiled. He was referring to a old movie star that uttered words to that effect once. He liked to try to stump me with the old movies. I leaned forward and whispered, "yes, I do know how to whistle, I just put my lips together....and blow." It was a good thing Lacy didn't come up for awhile. It was a comedy of errors with my one good hand and his one good arm, but we were determined. He was kind enough to help me mop the bubbles from the floor and we laughed most of the time so it was a very good thing.
The morning of the Fourth of July was a busy one. We had no brats or hot dogs but we did have pork chops and hamburgers. There was fresh vegetables from the garden and pies. We were altogether because Duke had rigged up something that enabled the security monitors to be switched to our monitors which we had mounted in our dining room and someone was monitoring constantly. We'd filled the dining room because for some reason mother nature had decided we needed a break and showered us with a slow gentle rain. It was wonderful. The temps hung in the 70's with the clouds that sat snugly over our valley. The air was so clean you could take a bite out of it and after two weeks of smelling ash and soot it was a welcome relief.
Clint never mentioned what happened to his prisoners and we never asked. He brought along the three survivors who seemed like likeable enough people and soon everyone was getting along fine. Well, Sissy was nearly glued to Don who was visibly embarrassed and Joe was doing his best to ignore the two of them. That seemed to make Sissy more determined to make him jealous. If she kept it up, Don was going to take her home. He wasn't going to put up with it much longer.
I'd noticed Lizzie was paying a lot of attention to Joe. He was really enjoying it more because it was Lizzie and not Sissy's.
We'd just finished filling our bellies and were telling tales of Fourth of July's past when Mandy uttered "What's that?" and pointed to the north.
"I hate it when she says that." Someone muttered. I agreed.
We all looked to the north and at first saw nothing. Then a small form began to take shape, swaying and bobbing gently as it slowly grew in size. Soon, I could see a black shape in the form of Darth Vader's mask looming over the north forty and when confusion finally took hold and I knew I'd gone over the deep end, I made out the shape of a small basket attached to the bottom of it. A hot air balloon. A Darth Vader's mask hot air balloon. And it was headed straight for us. Well, crap.
I plopped back into my seat. What the hell is going on? I got what? two days reprieve before this next situation? I put my head on the table on my folded arms and shook it back and forth with the occasional thump. This is a dream. It is so not happening. I turned my head and peaked over my arm. It was bigger, a lot bigger. I would venture a guess and say the damned thing was humongous...and growing. It was still headed towards us so I put on my game face and preceded to follow all the other fools to the yard to await the occupant.
It landed a bit hard, vomiting out the small man inside to roll a couple of feet in the mud. He was now completely unrecognizable. He stood, with help, and tried to wipe enough of the grass and mud from his eyes to see. Mandy, bless her heart, handed him her napkin and he slowly became a person.
He mumbled something and sorted through the muck on the ground until he located what looked like his glasses. Then he cleaned them before he plopped them back on his face. He sort of reminded me of the actor/producer Woody Allen, short, skinny, balding, glasses and nervous. He laughed with a small snort, then bent down and picked up a small book he'd dropped.
"Well," he said with a whiny voice, "that was some entrance, I may say. I need to take care of my balloon so it doesn't get away and then we can talk because this, my friends, is your lucky day."
We looked at each other and frowned. What was this fellow doing in a ridiculous hot air balloon, floating around in the rain on the Fourth of July? OK, I'll give him credit that he didn't know what day it was. We might have been off by a day or two ourselves so I wasn't gonna fault him for that. A couple of the guys helped him anchor the balloon to the ground where it was slowly loosing air and deflating. It looked worse now than it did before, if that was possible.
We escorted our 'guest' to the lodge where he cleaned up, then we fixed him a plate of food. His eyes didn't miss a thing. They flitted from the monitors, to the electric lights, to the heavily food laden table. Then he inspected each and every one of us, head to toe paying entirely too much attention to Clarissa and Mandy. I was getting very uncomfortable, while Sarah was getting madder than hell. I looked at Mason, and he was frowning also. Ken, George and Lacy hadn't missed it either. I got Ken's attention, spoke to him mind to mind then he nodded and took a couple of the men and left as leisurely as possible.
Our guests' name was Jeremiah. No last name evidently, just 'you may call me Jeremiah'. He ate like there was no tomorrow. He didn't look like he could hold that much food and I hoped he wouldn't get sick. He finally sat back with a sigh and a burp then patted his very full stomach, wiped his chin and said with a flourish. "I am the prophet Jeremiah. One of Gods right hand and I have come to deliver you sinners from hell."
Oh crap.
I'd been racking my brain trying to figure out who he reminded me of. I'd seen him somewhere before and not in the movies either. While he paged through his book which I found out later was a Bible, I questioned Mason and Lacy. They had my problem also.
"Jeremiah, what were you doing in a hot air balloon in the rain?"
"That is not important, sister, only that I have finally arrived to save you all from the wrath of God."
"My name, Jer, is Sarah, not sister and I think the question does matter."
Wow, Sarah, you go girl.
"I am the prophet Jeremiah..."
"I don't believe in 'the wrath of God'. My God is a gentle, loving God."
"That is a misconception most people have about God. You can't help believing that because the devil makes you think it."
"I haven't found in the bible where my God is not loving. Where did you find it?"
He was getting nervous. It wasn't a good look on him. "Well, now I didn't mean God isn't loving..."
"But that's what you said."
"I... a...am the prophet Jeremiah..."
" No, you're not."
"My dear lady. If you read your bible, you would know..."
"I hate it when someone 'assumes' I don't read my bible, or I'm not saved or I'm not right with God." She leaned over the table, pointed at him and said, "I particularly hate it when a little weasel who last year played a circus clown and gave rides in his hot air balloon for $50 a whack, invades my holiday, leers at my daughter and pretends to be someone he isn't. The very same weasel that killed a little girl by running a balloon into a high wire then disappearing so he wouldn't have to face charges of manslaughter."
"Just a minute my dear sis...I a.. mean Sarah, you have me mixed up with someone else I assure you. I heard of such a man somewhere in my travels but I am not that man. I am..."
"Micky the Mutton-head," I yelled, finally remembering who he was, "chief clown in the circus two years ago in Bozeman. I remember now, there were two little girls that disappeared during your stay." He nearly jumped our of his skin when I yelled. He was sweating profusely and turning a funky red color. "You running around, looking for a safe place to live while making people think you're a man of the cloth? That's low, Mickey, so low I can't think why we don't blow your head off and be done with it."
"Now wait a minute. You've got me wrong. Yea, I was in the circus for a while and I did fly a balloon but I never hurt anyone. I've been reborn." I nodded to Flynn and Joe and they picked him up by his arms and walked him backwards out to his now inflated balloon, tethered to the map. George brought out a basket of food and Mandy followed with Mickey's bible, cleaning it off as gently as possible. Mickey spit and sputtered the whole way. Then he was begging. Finally, he got mad and pointed as me and yelled, "You'll be sorry for this. You're turning me out to be killed by the devils that roam this earth and you'll be sorry."
I grabbed him by the shirt and got in his face. "I'll tell you what I'm sorry about. I'm sorry there's dead people walking around eating live people, I'm sorry they'll never be any more books, or movies produced and I'm really, really, sorry there's no more ice cream. I can't begin to tell you how sorry I am about the ice cream, but I am not now, nor will I ever be sorry about kicking your sorry, miserable, skinny, ass off this property. Come back and I will personally blow you out of the sky."
The ropes were released and Mickey the Mutton-head rose into the sky under the watchful stare of Darth Vader and nearly 30 people on the ground. A gust of wind, followed by a pretty heavy downpour pushed Mickey around the mountain and soon he was out of sight. I turned to find a lot of people staring at me.
"We gonna stand out here and get wet, or is someone gonna try to beat me at a game of checkers?" I said and raced a lot of people back to the lodge.
Chapter 18
The biggest brown eyes I'd ever seen were staring me down. Well, he was trying anyway. I stared back at him as I balanced the small ball in my hand and squeezed it continuously. Bubba's eyes didn't even blink as he glared at me. We'd been sitting on the back deck for an hour as I worked the rubber ball. I was using his favorite toy for therapy on my hand. It was healing and the bullet hole was itching like there was no tomorrow so I squeezed while we stared. He was good but so was I.
"You won't win ya know. He's had more practice." Mason whispered, as he quietly closed the back door. We were hiding. Yep, sneaking around like thieves in our own home. He sat to my right nursing a bottle of water and watched for a minute. "He doesn't care why you're playing with his toy and will wait you out."
"I'm almost done here, who are you hiding from?"
"Sarah. She said something about hanging some curtains she'd washed. I've already changed three light bulbs and moved two pictures from one side of the room to the other. I know they're trying to help with my therapy but damn...."
"Yea, she had me sewing on buttons and kneading bread this morning so when I get done playing with this ball and teasing Bubba I'm gonna find a nice quiet place to hide."
"I know what you mean. It's tough when people care about you."
I tossed the ball out towards the greenhouse and watched as Bubba chased it down and ran to the side of the lodge to hide it from me, again. He puts it in plain sight and pretends like its hidden. So cute.
"I was thinking about taking a walk, checking the perimeter, in general hiding from the well meaning masses. I wanted to talk to you about some ideas I have."
"How about we take the road grader and visit Valley East? I want to check with Clint about some ideas I have and see how Mercy is doing. We can grade the road over and back."
"Sounds like a plan. You get the grader and I'll call and warn 'em we're coming."
I was walking through the living room when I saw Bubba 'burying' the ball on top of the sofa. He saw me, jumped down and barked once before running out of the room, leaving the ball in plain sight. I played the game and pretended not to see it while I proceeded to Duke's Den.
"Mason and I are taking the grader over to Valley East for a few hours," I told Sarah, Lacy and Randy who were gathered around the toy helicopter mumbling to each other. "Any messages or deliveries should be ready to go in ten minutes." I grabbed the Sat phone and called Clint but Sissy answered. I told her we would arrive in less than an hour and hung up. I don't talk to Sissy much. Works for both of us.
Lacy had a blouse for Mercy and Randy sent over the portrait he'd done of Clarissa. I gathered my gun and ammo, the picture and blouse and met Mason out front on the yellow monster. He took the items and helped me up and settled in. It was too noisy to talk so I just watched for walkers and looked at the scenery.
The smell of the pine was thick. I wished there was some way to bottle the smell but there wasn't. Many had tried before the virus, but they'd all failed. That smell was one of the reasons I like to take walks. That and the peace. I loved the peace.
Valley East had poured out of the house to welcome us. It was a huge two story, Victorian with a weird shaped, steeply pitched roof and a dominant front-facing gable. A full-width, one story porch extended all around the house and a staircase led to a stained glass, double door. I think it had 12 bedrooms and as nearly that many baths. It was painted many colors and reminded me of a ginger bread house. I loved it.
I saw everyone but Mercy so she was still 'under the weather'. I greeted nearly everyone then went in search of my friend. I found her in her room, the blinds pulled, sitting in the dark. I closed the door, took a deep breath and grabbed the bull by the horns.
"Hey, Mercy, still wallowing I see." She jumped like I'd hit her then squinted her eyes to better see me in the gloom. "It's a nice day for it for sure but I'd have thought you'd be tired of it by now."
"What?" she said sitting up a bit straighter. "What did you just say to me?" "Wallowing. You know like a hog in a puddle of self pity, that's you. When ya gonna join the rest of us poor schmucks and strike a blow for humanity?"