American Apocalypse Wastelands (40 page)

“Anyone I would know?”

“Perhaps. Perhaps not. You should go back in. I think Night is calling you.”

I went back in. Night was asleep again, and Donna was going back to bed. The kid had blown me off like a pro.

 

The next few days were busy with the usual mixture of the mundane and the irritating. Night was badly bruised, and she probably had a couple of cracked ribs. That was on top of the run-of-the-mill aches.

She had woken up the next morning crying. She knew the baby was gone. She knew it earlier, of that I am sure. She just hadn't wanted to admit it. I climbed up on the table, hugged her carefully, and asked her if she wanted to go home. I got back an emphatic yes.

Around noon a Prius with a crumpled hood pulled into the farmhouse yard, and more stout old ladies than I could have imagined got out of it. They all seemed to be balancing
casserole dishes, a good thing since I had no idea what was for lunch. They had me announce them, and when Night was ready, they went in to keep her company.

I waited a few minutes and went in to help myself to a plateful of beans with badly cured venison, mac-andcheese, and some kind of weird bread pudding with cinnamon. As I finished I heard laughter coming from the back bedroom and decided to go walk the berm. Nobody was keeping watch. We didn't have the bodies.

Woof didn't know it, but he was our primary alarm system for now. He followed me as I walked the line. I had no idea where the kids were, probably in the house. If they were loose outside, then I would not have had the pleasure of Woof's company. He saw his primary job as “kid shepherd.”

I sat for a while on the main gate berm, just watching the clouds and smelling fall in the air. A hawk circled above me. I watched it ride the air currents and hunt for lunch. Not a single car passed by. I knew I should go into town, check on things, and deal with whatever needed dealing with. I just didn't feel like it, at least not right away.

I sat there, just watching the world go by, until the ladies left. They honked and waved as they drove off. I waved back and went down to make sure they had shut the gate properly. I could hear an axe chunking into wood, which told me where Tommy was. Woof must have heard or smelled the kids, because he ran off in that direction without even looking back.

I walked back into the house and was surprised to see Night up and about. She was in a much better mood. The first thing she did was to give me a hug and tell me how much she loved me. I don't know if she felt better from
the old ladies' visit or their casseroles, but they were welcome to return anytime they wanted.

She shooed me out and told me to go be useful; she was going to boil some water and take a bath. That reminded me, I was supposed to check on propane availability two days ago.

I was also supposed to be finding us a house in town to move into. Night had given me a list with three addresses to look at. I couldn't understand what the problem was with the trailer. She very rarely got angry with me, but my questioning her decision about moving was one time she did.

I knew Max had talked about relocating some of the married squad members who lived in Trailer Town to empty houses. The problem was finding houses that no one in town had a claim on. Generally that meant newer ones.

The ones Night had on her list were older and smaller, but made of brick and with wood-burning fireplaces. I knew of each one, but I had only a vague memory of what they looked like and approximately where they were. I figured I would find the block manager for each street, spend some quality time with them, and see if they remembered anyone complaining about problems with any of the houses.

 

I decided to bicycle in. Going uphill was a workout, but coming down was worth it. With no cars on the road I could fly. I had forgotten how much work it was, but I had not forgotten the thrill. I arrived in town in a good mood.

I parked the bike in front of the station and had started up the steps when a woman burst out the door. She was in her fifties, gray-haired, skinny, and clearly angry.

 

She looked my way and it got even clearer: She wasn't pissed in general; she was pissed at me. “You're the one I wanted to see!” she screamed. “You are a killer! When the country gets back on its feet, I will see to it that you are tried for murder! You wait! Things will get better and you will be hunted down like a dog!” Then she stormed off.

So much for a constructive, caring dialogue.

I went inside and asked the militia member who had taken Gunny's place who the old lady was.

“Sorry about that, Mr. Gardener. She was a bit upset.”

“I got that part. Why? And why me?” He looked a little uncomfortable. “Come on, just tell me.”

“One of them men you killed from Meadow Mills was her nephew.”

I thought about how to answer that, especially as I knew my answer would be repeated. The old me had one answer.

The newer, politically aware me had another. “Well, I am sorry about that. She have any more dumb-asses in her family I should know about?”

His mouth dropped open. I didn't wait for a reply.

I went for a walk around town for a couple reasons. One, it was my job. Two, I wanted to see the reactions I got from the people. For one of the few times in my life, I was actually interested in what people thought of me.

At the diner it was a mix of reserved greetings, fawning, and “How is Night doing?” In the business district, it was, “Hey! How are you?” and “Nice work. How's Night?”

I noticed two new storefronts getting cleaned up to open for business. I went into the first one and interrupted the family inside.

They went silent when I stepped through the door, then they lit up with smiles. I had seen the older man
and woman around, but knew almost nothing about them. The same went for a young pregnant girl who was engrossed in doing the lettering for a sign. The young guy I knew. He was a squad member.
Come on, brain!
I thought,
Give me his name!
It spit it out: Shawn.

“Hey, Shawn!” We shook hands and he introduced the rest of the Klein family.

Then he looked at me, wide-eyed, “Gardener, you were awesome out there! I told my family—” While he rattled on, I checked the expressions on their faces. Mom was wary with a touch of hostility. Same vibe from his mate. Dad, on the other hand, was beaming.

When Shawn stopped for a breath, I slapped him on the shoulder; that was my Max mimic move. “You guys were pretty good yourselves.” From the flicker in his eyes I knew he didn't feel that way.

I changed the subject. “So, what the hell are you doing here?”

Everyone got excited. They were starting a leather shop. Shawn went on to tell me about how they would have to do the tanning elsewhere because of the smell.

“Yep, we think leather is going to be huge. We plan on doing a lot of work in deerskin. The guy next to us is going to be making shoes, so we can go in together on leather buys. Mary, show Mr. Gardener our samples.”

They had some cardboard boxes filled with their work. It was pretty good work. Knife sheathes, small- and medium-size pouches. Belts—with and without tooling. “We plan to do jackets and pants also.” Everyone was nodding and smiling, and underneath it I could sense their fear. Fear that I might laugh. Fear that they might not sell
anything. Fear that this, another step in their lives, would be stomped on by forces too big for them to understand.

“So what did you do before?”—meaning, we all knew, before everything went to hell.

His face changed slightly, just a quick cloud. “I was a program analyst for a company that no longer exists. Mary was an English teacher at Oakton High School. We did this on the side as a hobby. We were at the point where we had a booth at the Maryland Renaissance Festival and a web site when—” He stopped.

Mary quickly filled in for him, “When we went from pretending to be living in the sixteenth century to actually doing it.” She was angry. You would have had to be completely oblivious not to hear it.

“I like these pouches. I tell you what. I'll take a big one for me and a smaller one for Night. What do you want for them?”

They didn't want me to pay. At one time I would have taken them for free.

“No,” I insisted. “I pay fair-market rate. Maybe later, once you get going, I'll take a law enforcement discount.” I grinned at them. “These might make good issue gear for the squad. How are you at making holsters and slings?”

We went on about that for a bit, and I left him with a silver dollar and some Zone scrip. When I left, I noticed the women had warmed up a little bit.

I stopped at the next shop and said hello to the owner. He was moving stuff around and seemed distracted. I let him be after a few minutes.

When I walked out the shop door, Freya was there.

“Hey, kid. What's up?”

“Nothing. I thought I would walk with you.”

We walked in silence for a bit. I said hello to anyone we passed on the street. Plus, I stuck my head in a few more shops. It was the same: positive feedback from the men, reserved politeness from the women, and inquiries about Night.

Freya asked me, as we resumed walking, “Do you know why the women act the way they do?”

I thought,
So it wasn't my imagination.
I stopped walking. “No, kid. Tell me why.”

“Because when they see you, they see the deaths of their men.”

CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

Freya and I walked over to the tollbooth. I noticed a marked improvement in the guards' readiness and politeness. I wondered how long it would last.

“How we doing?” I asked one of the two women.

“Slow but steady. City is making payroll today,” she said, grinning.

I smiled back. “That's good. It's why we work, isn't it?”

“Well, it isn't because I love the company.”

Her partner, who had moved close enough to hear, replied, “Bite one, Auntie.” They thought that was pretty funny.

I asked her, “So, what kind of folks are on the road today?”

“I try to find out, if we have time. That little woman of yours drilled that into me. How is she, by the way? Forgive me for not asking first off. Just got kind of rattled seeing you and that kid show up.”

I filed away her
that kid
and told her that Night was sore but doing better. That was followed by a couple minutes
of her praising Night, which I cut off as soon as I could get a word in edgewise.

“So you were going to tell me about the traffic?”

She laughed. I didn't.

“Well, some is our locals. Hey! Had a guy on horseback come through. Never seen him before. Mostly it's people who are coming out of the Zone to see family. We ought to shake them down. They usually got food they are bringing—” She must have seen my face change. “Oh, lordy, no. I don't mean it that way.” Her face turned pale.

I didn't cut her any slack. “Go on.”

“They always want to know about the roads. Are they safe? I tell them they should go up to the campground and caravan out.”

“Any of them do that, you think?”

“Naw, the wives would, but the men—they just want to keep going. Afraid it would make them look like chickens, I guess.”

“Interesting. Anything else?”

“Well, Jamie, you know him—Sheila's stepson?” I must have looked blank. “Oh, never mind. He said we had a UPS truck come through. Said the driver was not real happy about coming out here.”

“No kidding.”

“Yep. I haven't seen one of them in forever.” She looked and sounded wistful now.

We said our goodbyes, and I headed back to the station.

That afternoon our truck came in from Big Daddy. To say it was lacking in goodies would be an understatement. We got some expired vitamins and MREs, plus a pallet of ammo that was probably Vietnam-era manufacture. We
also got a hundred new U.S. flags and an equal number of DVDs that were highlights of the current administration's speeches. They would make good targets, I thought.

 

A few days later, Max stopped me after I'd read the daily log and was getting ready to walk the town. I had a couple of meetings scheduled and I was really hoping someone would stir up some moderate trouble to get me out of them.

I had one of the Motorola two-way radios now for my very own. I can't say I liked it a lot. It ruined the aesthetic of my gun belt. That was not something I'd say out loud, but it was true. Night liked it, probably more for the idea that now she could reach out and contact me wherever I was.

She was feeling a little better. She still suffered the occasional blue spell that she tried to hide from everyone. I hung out with her as much as I could until it was obvious I was getting on her nerves—obvious because she told me so.

Max said, “Let's go for a walk.” I knew what that meant. It was time for a triple top-secret conversation. We walked into an open area, and he abruptly switched from talking about the squads to his real topic.

“The Burners are sending a couple of people to talk to us.”

“Who is
us
?”

He smiled. “Well, that's what I've been thinking about. Right now it looks like me, you, Shelli, and Freya. Night, too, if she's up to it.”

“She will be up to it. What's up with having Shorty there?”

“Let's talk about her,” Max said. “I want to know more about what you saw when she was in your head.”

I told him what I had seen and experienced, how I'd seen black and white aerial visions of what was happening on the ground. I knew it was from Freya, I just couldn't explain it.