America's Sunset: A Post Apocalyptic Fight for Survival (8 page)

Chapter 15 ~ Fixing Things

“Well, so much for that alternator,” said Dawson. “The bolts holes don’t line up.”

Jake adjusted the flashlight, and tried to wiggle the alternator to the right to line things up. “Yep, you’re right there, buddy. That’s not even close. I knew that one was from a different year truck than yours, but figured it would be worth a try. Give me a second, and I’ll see if I’ve got another out back in the shed.”

“Exactly how many alternators do you have just lying around?”

“Who knows? I’m a bit of a pack rat, just ask Maggie. I’m forever catching her trying to throw out half my stuff.”

“I’ll go have a look. You just sit there and enjoy your beer. It is my truck, you shouldn’t have to do all the work.”

“No, no. It’s OK. You’ll never find anything in that shed. I have my own cryptic organization system back there. I’ll go find one, then you can do all the heavy lifting and I’ll supervise with a beer.”

Dawson gave a slightly disappointed shake of his head and smiled.

“What?” said Jake.

“You know what,” Dawson replied. “One of these days, you’re going to have to let me into that secret shed of yours. It’s not healthy, you know. We’ve been good neighbors for what, a year now? And that shed is a serious-looking man cave. I can’t believe you haven’t invited me in yet.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m sure you were in there a few times already.” Jake mustered the best perplexed look he could. “Just a few weeks ago, weren’t you?”

“No, no I wasn’t,” Dawson countered, as Jake headed into his backyard, closing the gate behind him. “I trust you with my kids, and you don’t even allow me into your man cave. That’s not very neighborly, you know.”

Jake didn’t answer. Dawson smiled as he took a swig of his beer.

“You boys aren’t fighting again now, are you?” Maggie kidded as she walked up to the driveway.

“Ah, you know how boys can be.” Dawson smiled, leaning his backside onto the car. “Just a little friendly ribbing. Thanks for keeping the kids occupied while I try to get this old thing to work.”

“Think nothing of it. You know I’ll take any excuse to spend time with those two. They’re adorable. Makes this old girl feel young again spending time with them.”

“C’mon, Maggie. You look hardly a day over 29.”

“Shh. I wish, and even if I did, I certainly don’t feel anywhere close to that.”

Truth be told, Maggie was a very young-looking forty-something. Which side of forty, Dawson had no idea, and certainly wouldn’t dare ask. Jake had just turned fifty last month, and was always going on about being married to the prettiest girl in town. Dawson never argued. She apparently had been prom queen and the Cotton Harvest Queen in her senior high school year. The only girl to hold both titles in the history of Big Springs, Texas.

“Where did Jake get to?” Maggie asked.

“He went looking for another alternator in the shed.”

“You let him head off to the shed? You’ll never get this fixed. We won’t see him for hours.”

Maggie took the flashlight from Dawson and standing next to him, she leaned over the engine to have a look at their handiwork.

“I could have told you that one wouldn’t fit. They totally redesigned this truck for this model year. You’ll need an alternator from this model year or newer to fit in here. That old pack rat was likely trying to pawn off some of his old stock on you.”

Dawson looked surprised. “How did you know that?”

“Hey, don’t seem so surprised.” Maggie playfully hip checked him. “I’m not just another pretty face, you know.” She took his beer from him and had a sip before handing it back.

“Sorry, won’t happen again.” Dawson smiled back. “Apparently there’s quite a bit I don’t know about you.”

“What is it you don’t know?” Jake announced as he made his way back to the truck with a newer alternator in hand.

“Well,” Dawson answered, “I didn’t know that I should have had your wife helping me out here, and you taking care of the kids.”

“Is that right now?” Jake said, giving a sly look to Maggie. “It is true that I did teach her just about everything I know about trucks.”

“Not quite everything I’d say. She seems to have surpassed the master in some areas,” Dawson said.

Maggie squeezed Dawson’s arm, while she leaned in and kissed Jake on the cheek. “I should go back inside and check on the kids. Just wanted to make sure the big kids out here were playing nice.”

“No need to worry about us, dear. We’ve got things under control,” Jake said.

“I’m sure you do, hon.”

Jake leaned into the engine, and checked the bolt holes on the new alternator as Dawson watched Maggie walk back down the driveway.

“Hey, stop watching my wife’s ass and hold that flashlight straight, will you.”

“Prom queen, huh?”

“Yes, and Cotton Harvest Queen. The only girl …”

“Yeah, I know, you told me.” Dawson adjusted the flashlight as Jake tightened the alternator bolts. “You never did tell me what she saw in you though.”

“Well, it’s obvious, isn’t it? Charm, striking good looks, and a bitchin’ ride.”

“That’s it? She went for you just ’cause you had a nice car?”

“Not a car. A truck. Sweetest pickup in town.”

“Did she have to fix it for you when you pretended to run out of gas on your first date?”

“Actually, I’m pretty sure she siphoned off the gas tank just enough to make sure we did run out of gas that night.” Jake chuckled to himself as he reconnected the battery.

“Gotta like a girl that knows what she wants, even if it was an ugly old bugger like you.”

Jake straightened up and gave Dawson a friendly push towards the truck door. “Shut up, and see if this piece of junk starts now.”

Dawson jumped in and turned the key, starting the truck on the first try. Jake patted him on the shoulder through the open door. “Good job, amigo. Now go kiss your kids goodnight and send my prom queen back home. She owes me a kiss goodnight as well.”

* * *

As Jake walked into the house, his cell phone vibrated with a text message. Looking down, it said ‘New Number’ followed by a second text message with a phone number. Jake quickly memorized the number, deleted both messages then dialed the number.

A familiar voice spoke. “Has he been acting any differently the last few days?”

“No,” Jake answered. “His truck had problems, so I gave him a ride …”

“You don’t need to explain. We know what you did. Just answer the questions asked.  What about the kids? Have they said anything that would suggest he’s planning on moving again?”

“No. Nothing unusual. No talk of moving.”

“Fine. Keep up the usual routine. We’ll contact you again when …”

“How much longer do I have to keep doing this?” Jake asked impatiently.

“Until we tell you it’s over. We’ll contact you again as required.”

The call went dead. Jake tossed the phone onto the counter. It slid and landed on the floor, where he left it. He paced back and forth for a few minutes, till he heard the screen door opening. As Maggie came in the hallway, Jake walked around the counter and picked up his phone.

“You alright, hon?” Maggie asked.

“Good thanks.”

“You look a little upset. There a problem?”

“No, just dropped my phone.”

“Good thing you got that protector for it. I told you those things weren’t just a waste of money.”

“Yep. You are right once again.” He smiled.

“I’m going to bed. You coming?”

“Yeah, sure thing,” he said as he deleted the log of his last call. “Just as soon as I wash up and get this dirt off my hands.”

Chapter 16 ~ Spy Boy

Dawson decided that tonight would be a good night to do a little exploring around Jake’s property. Maggie and Dawson had a conversation earlier, that made Dawson wonder about Jake. 

She told Dawson that Jake had a strong sense of family, but sometimes she thought it was too strong. Dawson thought that was a strange thing for Maggie to say. She was pretty family-minded, nd should have considered it a good thing if her husband had a strong sense of family. Most of the time he’d heard women complain about the opposite. They wished that the men in their lives spent more time at home, and less at the damn rodeo. Rodeo wives (or
rodeo widows
as the joke used to go), were usually more jealous of horses than other women. Guys on the circuit joked that you’d get in more trouble if your wife caught you flipping through the pages of
Equestrian Weekly
than a
Playboy
magazine.

Maggie said that what Jake needed was a stronger sense of community. She mentioned it when she was reminiscing about her own kids when they were young, while Veronica and Chase were playing. Dawson could see in her eyes how much his kids meant to her. He often thought she cared more for them than he did. Being a parent took a lot of effort for Dawson, he wasn’t a natural at it like Maggie and Jake seemed to be.

You couldn’t just force this kind of stuff, he thought. Kids weren’t so different from horses. You have to be patient, and just give them time to come to you. They need to sort it out in their own heads, and make up their minds about you. No matter how bad you want it, or how important it may seem at the time, you can’t just make it happen when you want it to. They have to want it as well. He smiled when he thought about the talk he'd had with Chase over the video game. That had gone well for a change.

Dawson had seen Jake bringing boxes into the shed plenty of times, and found it hard to believe he had room in the shed for all of it. Jake would say that he had a lot of projects on the go, as well as plans for future projects. He liked to stock up and be prepared for when he’d get the time to work on them. Sometimes the inspiration just came to him and he wanted to be ready to jump right in. It was all about the preparation, he said.

Dawson always thought that it was odd there were so few windows for such a big building. There were only two small windows in the front of the cabin.

Dawson’s thoughts drifted back to Maggie’s comments momentarily. Was she thinking that the kids weren’t part of Jake’s community? She certainly acted like they were part of her extended family.

Jake had been working on the roof of the house earlier, and the ladder was still out. Dawson moved it to the side of the cabin. He could see the profile of skylights running along the shed roof, and figured they'd give him a peek into those back rooms. Nothing wrong with that he, thought. Jake was so secretive about his cabin. He’d always promised to give Dawson a tour one of these days, but they never seemed to get around to it.

Dawson climbed onto the roof of the shed.
I get that a guy needs his space
, he thought,
but after all this time you’d think I would have been invited inside.
Maybe Dawson hadn’t made it totally into Jake’s inner circle yet. Did Jake have an inner circle? He was certainly a friendly guy, but he didn’t have any really close friends. Maybe that’s what Maggie was talking about. Jake was pretty family-centric. He needed more buddies.
I could use more buddies myself lately
, thought Dawson.
We should hang out more together. I could certainly do better by him. We didn’t exactly get off on the right foot.

Dawson was on the roof now, and looking into the first window. This room looked like the storeroom of a restaurant or grocery store. There were several rows of shelves against the wall, loaded down with boxes, bottles and cans. He squinted to read the labels, but they all seemed to be staple foodstuffs. Beans, cereals, canned meats, and rice. There were others labeled, but he couldn't quite make out the writing.

Chapter 17 ~ Familiar Haunts

Dawson never gave up hope, that there was still a chance. He called it faith.  His mother called it blind stupidity. She blamed it on too many tumbles off horses. Either way, Dawson knew it was real. He and Lisa were childhood friends before they were childhood sweethearts. No matter how bad things got between them, he always believed they would work it out. They had that solid base of friendship that would always keep them close. Marriage was forever … right? Right!

The crumpled hand written letter in Dawson's trash said otherwise. He didn't even open the bigger manila legal sized envelope. It had some lawyers New York address stamped in the upper left corner.
What the hell was she doing in New York? She's not a New York girl. Apparently, Lisa had found the other love of her life. She was moving on. She asked him to do the same. Asking and receiving are two very different things
, he thought.

* * *

Dawson pulled open the door to The Old Cotton Gin and went inside. It wasn’t normally his kind of place, but lately nothing really seemed his sort of place. Nothing about this entire town seemed his sort of place. He had big ideas, and what better place to get those ideas off his chest than a bar with a bartender that was a good listener. The place smelled like spilled beer and greasy fries. Dawson grabbed a seat at the bar anyways.

There were a few guys and a girl playing pool at the table in the corner. There seemed to be a disagreement between a couple of the guys over whose turn it was. Their alcohol-fueled conversation suggested more of an investment in their drinking skills than their pool skills. They both had their hands on the lone pool stick, tugging it back and forth. The girl staggered from her stool to stand next to them.

“It’s neither of your turns, you jackasses. It’s mine. Go sit down, and give me the damn stick.” She held her hand out.

Neither let go of the cue as they continued arguing, oblivious to the girl. They staggered precariously, but their tug of war over the cue somehow kept each from falling over.  The girl grew tired of waiting, and finally punched one of them in the shoulder. She’d aimed higher, but their jostling made her miss. They both stared at her, as if seeing her for the first time.

“I said, give me the damn stick. It’s my turn. You guys have been hogging the table ever since we got here. You promised me I could play if I came along, so give me the damn stick.” For emphasis, she punched the other guy.

Both men looked at her, then shrugged in unison, handed her the cue, and sat back down. Gulping their drinks, they watched the girl shoot. Her first shot totally missed the white ball, and tore a divot out of the felt. Both men laughed so much one of them almost fell off his stool. The girl glared at them both before proceeding to string together a number of equally bad shots. Happy to have drinks in their hands, and amused by the girl’s pool skills, they totally forgot their previous squabble.

Dawson took a seat at the bar.

“I’ll have a double whiskey and a glass of water please,” he said to the bartender.

The bartender reached for the whiskey bottle with the white label on the bottom shelf.

“Not that stuff,” Dawson said. “Top shelf up there. The good one. The other stuff is gut rot.”

“That malt is totally overpriced,” the bartender said, “but I have to charge what the boss says.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Dawson answered. “If I’m going to poison myself, I may as well do it in style.”

“Whatever you say, mister. Most people around here are happy to just feel good without emptying their wallets.”

“My name’s Dawson. Guess I’m not really too smart when it comes to money matters.”

“If you’re drinking from this bottle, at least you got money. That’s more than I can say for most people in this town.”

“Today I do, but who knows what tomorrow brings. Today we drink the good stuff.” Dawson smiled, raising his glass.

“Health and wealth are grossly overrated I always say.” He nodded to Dawson’s raised glass.

“Excellent motto for a bar.” Dawson took a swig of the water. “It was a hot one out there today.”

“Welcome to Texas. You’re not from around here, are you? You sound more like a Midwest boy.”

“You’re right, I am. Good ear.”

“Well, I am a bartender, right? Listening comes with the territory. You been here long?”

“About a year now.”

“Really? I haven’t seen you around town. Certainly not in here. I’m usually pretty good with faces, even if I don’t remember the names. My name's Jim by the way.”

“Right. Nice to meet you, Jim.” Dawson reached his hand across the bar, and they shook. “I usually only have time for work and home. It’s been quite a while since I sat in a bar. Something I got far too good at not so long ago.”

“Probably not the kind of life skill you want to be putting on a resume anyways.”

“No, probably not. Although, with my resume, it wouldn’t be the worst thing I have on it.”

“As long as it’s not the best thing, you should be OK. Plenty of people make bad choices. The sad part is some never realize it.” He motioned towards the group at the pool table.

Dawson nodded in agreement. “So, you say you’re not the owner of this fine establishment. Who is?”

“Mr. Billy Parsons is the current owner, but not for much longer. Some big outfit is in the process of buying the place, and then who knows what will happen to it.”

“Really. They gonna tear it down? Put up something fancier?”

“No one knows. Billy hasn’t had much to say about it. We’re not on speaking terms these days.”

“Hard to stay friends with the boss all the time.”

“Thing is, we’ve been pretty close for a long time. He’s known me since I was a kid. Kind of a friend of the family when I was growing up, and gave me my first job out of high school.”

“What job was that?”

Jim just smiled as he wiped the bar. “You’re looking at it.”

“Oh.” Dawson hesitated. “Sorry, didn’t mean to suggest …”

“Don’t worry. You wouldn’t be the first person to tell me I should be doing something better in my life than pouring drinks. The list is long. Both parents, the ex-wife, and the ex-girlfriend. The new girlfriend who
was
going to be the next fiancée would agree with them.”

“Life does kinda suck sometimes. Maybe you should buy the bar. The ladies might take you more seriously as a business owner than a bartender.”

“Oh, so now you’re the guy giving advice in a bar? Thought that was my turf.”

“Ah, sorry.” Dawson held up a placating palm.

“No worries. I did make an offer to buy it a few months ago, but Billy turned me down. It’s why we’re not talking. I always assumed he’d want me to take it over eventually. People can surprise you in the worst way sometimes.”

The television behind the bar caught Dawson's attention. Jim turned to look as he started stacking glasses from the dishwasher tray. A newscaster was rambling on about the usual world disasters. She was interviewing some guy from NASA. Dawson motioned towards the screen, and Jim turned up the volume.

“So what exactly did the satellites pick up, and what can our viewers do about it?” she asked.

“In layman terms, it’s simply a solar storm. The satellites pick these up all the time, and provide some interesting data for scientists. This one is quite a bit bigger than usual, so we thought we should let people know. Just in case.”

“In case of what exactly? What kind of preparations should someone take to prepare for a solar storm? Board up the windows and stock up on food, like they would for a hurricane?”

“No, no, no. That’s not really necessary …”

“What is it with these space geeks? Seems like ever since the government cut their budget, these NASA guys look for any excuse to get some air time,” Dawson said.

“Just doing their jobs I suppose. No point in letting us regular folks get through a day without something horrible to worry about.”

“I know what you mean.” Dawson slid his glass across for a refill.