Worth Saving (5 page)

Chapter Seven

I was hot, sweaty, and felt great. My muscles were loose and lubricated. Working smoothly in the hot sun. My leg was heeling fast and didn’t seem to be slowing me down. I’d found some tin snips and spent the day wrestling chain link fences from an elementary school onto three little red wagons that I’d hooked together and dragged home.

Arriving back at the library, I’d removed my shirt and tossed it onto the stairway railing outside the front door. Picking up the heavy fence material, I threw a roll over each shoulder. Ellen was in place in the middle of the intersection and focused, holding my bow and quiver; she was on the lookout for any trouble, scanning each of the four streets in turn,

Starting to whistle I dropped off the fence at the appropriate spots and returned for more only to find Claire standing next to my discarded shirt holding a tray that looked like lunch. Her face had a strange look as she stared at my shirtless chest. Feeling slightly uncomfortable, I quickly retrieved the missing garment and threw it back on, pausing to wipe the sweat from my eyes.

“I thought you guys might want a break,” she said as she watched Ellen running to join us. “That girl never slows down.” She added, shaking her head and turning back to hand me a water bottle.

Thanking her, I instantly scarfed down the bottle and asked for another.

“Did you see all the fence Kris got,” Ellen said. “He says it’ll keep the dogs out and that I can ride a bike inside the fence line. Isn’t that right Kris?”

Raising a skeptical eyebrow, Claire looked at me, “So can you really make it safe?” she asked.

“Yes I’m sure,” I said, annoyed that Claire didn’t believe in me. “We’ll block off the four intersection and create a square roadway around the entire block. I’ll string fence across each street, from lamp post to lamp post and rig up some kind of gates. I’ve already confirmed that all of the outside buildings are secure with exception of some broken window that I’ll board up. Ellen will be able to ride around the entire city block, as safe as can be,” I said with calm confidence. I’d already decided to build the cathedral intersection back a few yards to give me easy access to the building and its bell tower. I didn’t want them to know about my secret spot up amongst the gargoyles, not yet. A man had to have some place to be alone.

We sat on the stone steps and ate the lunch Claire had prepared. The silence of the group started to grow awkward with Claire and me stealing glances at each other, trying to figure out what the other was thinking about and Ellen sitting between us openly looking back and forth. She couldn’t seem to keep from smiling but kept her thoughts to herself.

Remembering my manners, I thanked Claire for the sandwiches and stood up.  “Come on squirt,” I said, cupping the back of Ellen’s head, “Back to work.”

Running and getting my bow and arrows where she’d carefully put them, Ellen gave Claire the biggest smile, as if she was going to burst out of her skin and light the world with her happiness.

.o0o.

It’d taken three days of hard work to get to this point; I beckoned Ellen inside the fence line so she could twist the last tie wraps connecting the fence and lamp post. “Here, use both hands and twist this wire, and then we’re done,” I said.

“Really, Me?”

“Yeah, use two hands….” A scream down the street interrupted us. A boy was running down the middle of the street his feet barely touching the asphalt. A pack of dogs rounded the corner, giving chase. The boy’s pumping arms moved like pistons as he ran flat out, his big saucer eyes grew bigger when he saw the fence. 

“Quick, open the gate,” I yelled to Ellen and grabbed my bow and pulled an arrow from the quiver. “This way, over here,” I yelled.

“It’s Hector,” Ellen whispered. Her eyes glued to the scene as her white knuckled hand griping the gate.

The boy changed direction without breaking stride and turned towards the only escape option. I recognized the red Irish setter from the deer hunt in the park, followed closely by the German shepherd and the rest of their pack. A vision of the dogs tearing into that doe flashed through my mind as I smoothly pulled the bow string back to my ear and took aim through the chain link fence. I tried to breathe normally, knowing I’d only get one chance. As I prepared to let fly, the lead dog shifted course and the shot was blocked.

Cursing under my breath, I adjusted my aim, waiting for an opening. He’s not going to make it, I thought. “Come on. Faster,” I yelled, encouraging him the last thirty yards.

With twenty yards to go, the setter shifted again, trying to hamstring Hector. Her white canine teeth inches from the boy’s heels. The dog lunged and brought her muzzle in for the tripping bite when she was knocked sideways, a silver arrow piercing her side.

My hands shook as I tried to grasp another arrow from the quiver. Before I could complete the rearm, the boy was through the gate and Ellen had slammed it closed and thrown the locking latch.

Hector had come to a halt, gasping a huge lungful of air, looking around to see if he was safe, obviously surprised to be alive.

The dogs had stopped and gathered around the red setter, nosing her, trying to get her up. As I watched the dog tried to raise her head, looked at her mate the German shepherd before collapsing for the last time.

The shepherd sniffed her, repeatedly going over her entire body as if trying to find some sign of life. Sitting next to her he lifted his head and let loose a mournful cry of pure anguish that tore off a little bit of my soul. The big dog turned and locked eyes with me, as if memorizing every detail of his mortal enemy.  I stared back, refusing to break the moment as my spine shivered with trepidation.  This was now a battle to the death. Some time, somewhere, the shepherd would try to kill his mate’s murderer.  And what they had done to that deer in the park would be merciful compared to what the pack would do to me if they caught me outside the wire.   

Raising the bow to take another shot, I watched as the dogs bolted and fled back around the corner. My eyes drifted to the dead dog. She looked so alone laying there in the middle of the street like a pile of carpet. My heart broke a little. I’d always dreamt about having a dog, a friend full of unconditional love. Someone to hike the forest trails with, to know my deepest secrets and love me anyway. I knew we could have been the best of friends in another world and another time.

Gathering myself, I tore my gaze away from the dog and looked at the young boy, bent at the waist with his hands on his knees trying to grab enough air. Ellen was rubbing his back like Claire did to her, telling him he was safe now, they were all safe now.

I stuck out my hand, “Hi, I’m Kris Robertson.” The strange sound of my last name shocked me a little. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d used it.

Slowly standing up, the boy appeared to be about fourteen or fifteen, average height with bronze skin and short black hair that
looked like he’d cut it himself with a sharp rock.  He was wearing an unbuttoned flannel shirt over an AC/DC T-shirt, jeans and tennis shoes. Those shoes may have saved his life, I thought. Heavy boots would have slowed him down just enough.

The boy eyed the hand skeptically, and looked at me with trepidation.  I continued to hold it out watching him evaluate his options before he reached out and shook the offered hand. “Hector Wolowitz, your average Jewish Mexican, and thank you, nice shot. Who said you could put up a fence?” He asked, rattling the chain links to see how strong they were.  

“We’re making a sanctuary,” Ellen volunteered, having problems with the last word.

“Hmm, lot of work, but it could be a good idea, definite potential here,” he said to himself, obviously forgetting everyone around him.  He looked at the three observable intersections, then back to the dead dog lying in the street.  “Yes it should work.”

“Ignore Hector, he talks to himself,” Claire said, walking up to join the small group. “Hi Hector, how’re you doing?” Claire added stretching out and giving him a quick hug.

“Chiquita, I am muy beuno, mucho muy beuno,” Hector answered, reaching out and returning the hug.

“You guys know each other I take it.” I said, watching them closely. Why hadn’t she said anything about him before? Was she keeping other secrets, I wondered.

“Sure, out territories sort of over lapped,” Claire said.

“Chiquita here is my favorite shiksa,” Hector added.

Gently holding his arm, Claire began to steer him towards the library. “Are you hungry?” She asked Hector, “It’s almost dinner time.”

“I could eat.” Hector said, sounding like a New York Yiddish diamond merchant.

Shaking my head, I followed the group into the library.
Another day in the big city,
I thought. Wondering how a fourteen year old boy on his own in a mid-western town came to have a Spanish/Yiddish accent. 

Hectors eyes lit up when he saw all of the library books. “I didn’t know this was here,” he said, stopping to gaze lovingly at the treasure.  He only agreed to move on when Claire pulled him towards the stairs and promised he could explore to hearts contents after dinner.

I watched his face closely when we entered the fourth floor former office space. We had removed all of the cubicles and turned the outer office area into a formal dining room, with a huge oak table and eight winged back chairs. Beautiful landscape paintings were liberated from the local bank and hotels to adorn the walls.

“Wow, this is nice. You guys do all this?”

Claire smiled, obviously pleased. “Yes, were making it our own. We may be using other peoples stuff but it’s our place, or at least will be when we’re done,” She said, going to a small table in the corner to finish preparing dinner.

Ellen took him into the other offices across the hall and showed him the ‘Pantry’ as Claire called it. Three walls where lined with shelves from the floor to the ceiling, straining under the weight of the food supplies. Can goods, dozens of cereal boxes, two cases of large plastic bottles of canola oil and several shelves of spices.

“You guys must have scrounged everything within blocks,” Hector said.

“Claire say’s it’s harder and harder to find stuff.” I said, coming up behind him. “Dinner’s ready”

Jumping a little at the unexpected intrusion, Hector followed me and Ellen back into the dining room where Claire was serving china plates of pickles, olives, Ham slices, and some fried pita bread type things she’d made on the rooftop barbecue earlier that morning.  And some sliced granola bars for desert.

Digging in like he was born there, Hectors asked about the Sanctuary and what our plans were.

Without thinking, I sort of looked off into the distance as I described how we hoped to set up a place where people could live without fear. A safe haven where kids didn’t have to worry about being hassled by predators, both the four and two legged kind.  How anyone would be welcome as long as they helped with the work and didn’t cause problems. Warming to the subject, I got more and more passionate as I talked about some of my plans for growing our food instead of having to scavenge all the time. Rambling, I kept on about how we could better look out for each other, sharing and helping each other. I know I sounded sort of idealistic, but it’s how I felt at the time.

Hector kept quiet, listening as he cleaned his plate and reached for seconds. When I was done with my long winded speech, Hector looked at the group, putting down his fork he looked directly at me, “Are you meshugenah? Loco? Or just plain nuts? You’re setting yourself up to attract every weirdo and crazy out there, they won’t have to even look for you.”

“What does meshugah mean?” Ellen asked.

“Crazy, swimming in a sewer and thinking it’s Jell-O type crazy, Eating acorns and tasting M&M’s crazy, walking up to the evil witch in the forest and asking her to show you her special kids size oven, crazy,” Hector said.

“How’s your way working for you?” I asked, his face getting red. “Those dogs would be falling into a deep sleep after their Hector feast if we hadn’t been there.”

Hanging his head, Hector slowly shook it from side to side. “Wait, you’re not thinking I should join your little paradise, are you?” he said, looking at each of us in disbelief pushing his chair slightly back and looking at the door. ‘You’re serious, aren’t you?”

“You’d have time to work on that pump thingy you were talking about the last time we saw you.” Claire said to him. Turning to me she said “He has this idea that he could use some type of a windmill to pump water up from the river.”

“Really, that’d be great. Wow, could you do that, how? What can we do to help?” I said, my contagious excitement prompting both Ellen and Claire to start talking about all the things they could do with running water.

Hector sat there and listened as they tried to talk him into it until he finally gave up just to get them off his back.

“Don’t worry, it doesn’t have to be permanent, if you don’t like it, you can always leave,” I said.

“Yeah, right” Hector mumbled under his breath.

Chapter Eight

I stood and stretched, rubbing my lower back as I looked at the three inch double braided nylon rope faked down on top of the roof, mentally confirming I had more than enough to build a rope bridge to the apartment building next door.

Smiling to myself, I thought about how the group was growing, there was eight of us now, Two thirteen year old boys, Tim Schick, and Paul Shuck, or as everyone referred to them (Schick/shuck) because they were always together.

I couldn’t task one without the other helping. I’d learned to assign them two jobs knowing they’d be done one after the other, never at the same time. The young boys had found each other shortly after the illness and never been separated since.

Claire and Hector had known about the duo and found them living in a huge mansion by the City Hall area. Claire had easily talked them into joining.
But then, what young boy wouldn’t do whatever Claire asked of him
. They’d been living in a huge, decked out mansion, with the most boy perfect game room ever. Sporting a pool table, foosball, and an indoor basketball hoop. In the back yard the boys had turned the dry swimming pool into a rad skateboard park. All the things a thirteen year old boy would love. They’d willingly left a carefree life to join the little community. I figured that they were bored with their former life and were looking for something new.

The young boys had taken up residence in the apartment building next door, moving into a place on the top floor.  Hector and I’d donned full body hazmat suits and spent a trying day removing the bodies. My skin itched with unknown germs until I was able to get down to the river and wash it all off.

Margaret Woods, always Margaret, never Maggie we’d been informed, had shown up at the fence by the empty grocery store, catty corner from the next door warehouse.

The brown haired fifteen year old had calmly asked to join the group as if she were asking to play in a pickup volleyball game. A thin, quite girl who looked as if she’d blow away in a stiff wind.

She spent her free time exploring the library or reading in her room. She would do her chores and help when asked, but she didn’t go out of her way to help the others.

None of the others knew anything about her and were surprised when she first showed up. Schick/Shuck had tried interesting her in joining them on their adventures and been truly confused when their offer was refused. When that didn’t work, they’d tried teasing her, hoping to find a victim that could provide them some laughs. They learned it was no fun when the victim didn’t react. A frog in her underwear drawer didn’t even rate a squeal, let alone a full throated shriek. I was sure the boys weren't done trying and would have to talk to them and try and keep it from getting out of control.

I placed several 2X4s onto the saw horses, measured and marked them with a carpenter’s pencil. As I began to cut the board with a large handsaw I thought about our latest addition. Little Jenifer Crawley, A nine year old red head who liked to wear crazy outfits that competed with each other in their flamboyance.

A four year old Jenny and a much, much older Mrs. Thompson. "She was real old, like forty or something," Jenny said. They
'd lived in the same apartment building at the time of the illness and ended up taking care of each other until Mrs. Johnson had been taken by the raiders last year.

The woman and little girl had been scavenging in a mini-mall when the raiders had trapped them in a Java Juice, blocking both exits. Mrs. Johnson attacked them like a lioness, using tooth and claw to open a way for Jenny to escape. The last Jenny saw her; Mrs. Thompson was being loaded into a wagon, her hands tied in front of her.

Margaret told us about the girl. When I’d started to make plans to go find her, Claire stopped me and suggested that only she and Margaret go. I hadn’t liked the idea of letting them outside the fence without protection, but was smart enough not to say anything. I knew very well that Claire could take care of herself. That didn’t mean I had to like it. My gut twisted like a wrung out rag whenever I thought about her being out their alone and in some kind of danger while I sat here not knowing if she needed my help.

Margaret led Claire to the girl’s hiding place in a warehouse down by the river.  Jenny had never gone back to her apartment after the abduction. She’d been constantly moving around town ever since.

Jenny chose an office on the library’s third floor across from Margaret. The boy’s emptied it and brought up a bed from the department store along with matching furniture. She’d been excited about her new home and attached herself to Hector, shadowing him while he tinkered in the lab below. He was always working on something but swearing her to secrecy about the project.

I was drilling holes into the board ends with the handheld drill when I heard a high pitched scream from the street below. I ran to the ledge, two young men, both about twenty where holding Ellen by the arms. The taller of the two was yelling at her to stop screaming.

My heart jumped into my throat. I knew they could be out the gate and lost into the buildings before I got there. I’d left my bow below; I didn’t need it on the roof.  A sense of guilt squeezed my throat as I thought about how scared Ellen must be.

Turning, I grabbed the rope and threw it around a roof mounted air conditioning unit tying a quick bowline knot securing it. Rushing as fast as I could, my mind racing with all of the things that could go wrong, I dropped the rope down the side of the building.

Making sure I had a good grip, I threw my legs over the edge and started to lower myself hand over hand. Ignoring the pain, I let go of one grip just as I grabbed the next hand hold. Thinking about Ellen I griped the rope hard enough to slow my progress and dropped the last fifteen feet, tucking into a ball and rolling as my feet hit the sidewalk.

Springing up, I charged the closest man holding Ellen by the arm, hitting him in the rib cage at full speed. Wrapping up like I’d been taught in Pee Wee football all those years ago. Both of us left our feet and slapped into the pavement with a dull thunk, sliding a good yard or two. I rolled away from the man and sprang to my feet.

My heart raced and my lungs were working like a blast furnace, pumping in and out as fast I could make them. I looked around, seeing a terrified Ellen safely to the side, frozen in place.

The other man was much bigger than his partner and moving towards me with a determined look on his face. Seeing that look, I realized that this was a fight to the death.

A sickening thought ran through my mind, if I failed here, the whole idea behind the community would fail. Pissed off thinking about it, I ran towards the man, surprising him. As he approached, I pulled up short, planted my leg and kicked upwards as hard as I could, catching the man fully in the crotch, the top of my foot ruptured something soft as it made contact.

The big man screamed and dropped to the ground, curling into a ball with his hands between his legs.  Totally focused, no sound could have penetrated to register. All I could see was the man’s face; all I could feel was an overwhelming desire to push something through it. Bringing my fist overhand, I put my whole weight behind the punch and felt the satisfying crunch of bone. Elated, I brought my arm back again and again turning the man’s face into a black and blue mush.

I’d still be punching the man but an arm snaked around my throat and pulled me off. As I was being pulled backwards, I threw one last kick into the man’s crotch, a soundless laugh became trapped in my throat when the man groaned.

I grabbed the arm around my throat, pulling it away enough to twist away and face the attacker. Surprised to see the first man, I pushed away, trying to get my bearings. I’d totally forgotten about the other man, so focused on the bigger guy. How could I be so
dumb? Gasping for breath I tried to get an understanding of the situation.

My awareness of the environment slowly returned. 

Trying to get enough air and to slow my pounding heart, I crouched, gathering myself for a charge. The man circled, bent at the waist and came up with a knife from the ground. One of the two he’d dropped in the melee. I hadn’t known it was there. I reached for my belt, my heart dropped as I remembered my knife sitting on the work bench back on the roof.

As we circled each other I started having problems seeing and realized my left eye was swelling close. I didn’t even remember when it happened; it must have been when we hit the street together. The man smiled, obviously enjoying his significant advantage, exposing a missing tooth he’d probably lost during my initial tackle. Spitting out a mouthful of blood, the man made a move towards Ellen and I jumped in front of her.

We continued to circle each other. The man finally made his move, lunging in and sweeping with the knife. I jumped back, throwing my arms into the air, trying to keep myself between Ellen and the man. 

“Ellen, get out of here,” I yelled, not checking to see if she followed my order, my good eye never leaving the hand holding the knife.

The man yelled and made a stab move towards my belly. Twisting, I tried to block the move but missed badly and felt the sharp blade cut into my left arm and skid along the bone.  Fear shot through me as I saw the satisfied look on the man’s face.  Realizing my left hand was now useless and how much danger I was in, I let out a primordial scream. Using the last of my energy I moved to kick the man in the crotch.

Expecting the move, the man jumped back. I didn’t kick, instead I followed him and using my dead arm as a blocking club I
threw a right hook to the man’s face, breaking his nose and making him back up several steps.

I knew that I had to finish this fast; I was losing too much blood and had spent too much energy. My body was screaming in pain, yelling at me to stop and fix it. Not knowing how much energy I had left, I charged the man again before he could react. Using my head as a battering ram to the chest, I tried to grab the knife arm and hold it away but the man didn’t cooperate. Taking the full force of the charge, he twisted and threw me to the ground.

Landing on my back, I looked up as the man dropped to his knees on either side of my chest, pinning my arms.

Moments away from death, my mind exploded with awareness. I could see the sun over the man’s shoulder, peaking through the fluffy white clouds. My nose was flooded by his attacker’s stink. He smelled like he hadn’t taken a bath since last summer. Like wet wool soaked in old sweat. My fingers where bruised and puffy. I had to fight to control my gag reflex at the rusty iron taste of the blood filling my mouth.

Most of all I could see the man who would kill me. Using my one good eye, I tried to memorize his face so that if there was a Heaven and or a Hell, I could hunt the man down. I cataloged every acne mark, the missing tooth, and the cool brown eyes. Every detail was burned into my soul as the man raised the knife above his head, holding it with both hand.

I tried to move but I was locked down. Refusing to give up, I gathered a mouthful of bloody saliva and spit it into the man’s face. Taking a deep breath, ready for the end.

The man dropped a hand to wipe the red spittle from his eyes before he returned it to its previous position, obviously enjoying the moment. He started to bring the knife down again when without warning there was a large crack and an explosion of wood, hair, and blood. The man’s head slumped forward as his eyes glazed over. I rolled free as he fell to the left, unconscious.

I sucked in a deep breath, Wondering if I was still alive, and if so why? My confusion was overwhelming until I saw Claire standing there, feet spread, holding a 2x4 above her right shoulder like a baseball bat, ready to swing again. Her face was set and determined as she focused on the man lying at her feet. Her long blond hair blowing in the wind.

Her fiery eyes reminded me of a biblical angel smiting a demon. A surge of adrenalin flushed through me with a glorious sense of exaltations, unbelievable gratitude, and a strange feeling deep around my heart.

I slowly stood up, squeezing my arm to try and stop the bleeding. Remembering the other attacker, refusing to be surprised again, I swung around and let loose a huge breath when I saw him curled up in a ball on the ground, rocking back and forth.

I stumbled to Claire and in a voice breaking with emotion, said “Thank You.”

She seemed to relax, her eyes narrowed, “Did I kill him?”

“No, I don’t think so, he’s still breathing,” I said. My head spun and vision started to turn blurry. I’d have killed for a drink of water. My mouth tasted like what I imagined a desert tasted like,
a desert in the dead of summer at that.
Claire’s forehead creased in obvious concern as she looked me over, reaching up she brushed grit and grime away from my face, tenderly caressing my swollen eye.

“Ellen, go get me the first aid kit, and a couple of clean sheets.” Clair said, her eyes never leaving me.

“And some rope to tie them up,” I reminded her.

“How did you get here so fast? I thought you were on the roof? I was so scared when I heard Ellen’s scream; I thought for sure neither of us would get here in time,” she said.  I think Claire was babbling, the energy pulsing through her body had to go somewhere. She started to pace back and forth and kept looking at the man she’d hit.

I nodded my head towards the rope hanging down the side of the building and watched as Claire’s eyes widened in admiration. My chest expanded and I couldn’t help but smile at the wonderful feeling that flowed through me like rejuvenating electricity.