Lamp Black: Second Edition, Disaster, Preparedness, Survival, Awakening (The Gatekeeper Book 2) (32 page)

Hot and sweaty from their exertion, both men agreed to take a break. Paul aimed for a lounge chair on his back patio, and John went to the house to get the bottled water. He returned a few minutes later and sat the half empty case at Paul’s feel. “Drink up, you need to stay hydrated,” said John.

“That was a first for me,” said Paul, after he drained his first water bottle and crushed it in his hands. John remained silent, curious to see what Paul meant as “first.” Was it killing a man in the heat of passion, or burying a body in his backyard. Maybe he was even talking about surviving the attack, or having to watch his wife be assaulted. None of Paul’s firsts were gratifying.

When Paul didn’t elaborate, John said, “You know something . . . we should save these empty water bottles. We’re not going to see new ones for a very long time. And they make good canteens when you tie a piece of string around the top,” said John.

Paul studied the crumpled plastic bottle and nodded. “You’re right. I keep forgetting everything has changed.”

John drained his own water bottle and stuffed it back into the plastic covering that held the remaining water bottles. “Yup, everything has changed around us,” said John, “but we have to guard ourselves against some of the change. We have to remain civilized. If we remain civilized we’ll be able to rebuild, but if we become like animals . . . we’ll just end up killing each other and never recover from this,” he finished, with a head nod to the ash.

Paul looked at John and said, “That’s deep, but I know what you mean.”

“Take Darrel for instance, it makes me wonder if he changed when the ash started to fall, or was he always so warped? Was he just waiting for a reason to let himself go, to become the predator that he was, or was he being an opportunist, bent on exploiting the change in order to survive?” John reached for another water bottle and added, “Neither
justified his actions, but I don’t understand what drives a man to do what he did.”

“I sell dairy products on-line,” said Paul, in a matter-of-fact tone of voice. “I only know what people want when they order milk and ice cream.” Something about that struck John as funny and he laughed. Paul joined him, and said, “I don’t know about you, John, but I’m happy to turn my back on some of the things that controlled my life before the ash began to fall.”

“I know what you mean,” said John, “But a lot of people won’t be happy with the change, especially when there’s no food and water around. When good people get hungry they’ll become desperate, and desperate people will do desperate things. Darrel was only the first. There will be many more like him before things settle down again.”

“How many more do you think?”

“It’s hard to say, but I think we’ll see problems here in the neighborhood before we have to worry about a bigger outside threat.” replied John.

“An outside threat?”

“Yes. Even a large, disorganized group of displaced persons could easily overrun our neighborhood and strip us of all our food and supplies. But an organized group, like a gang . . . well, they could do a lot more harm.”

“In what way?” Paul asked.

John could see Paul was genuinely interested in his opinion, which was understandable give his recent experience with violence, but he didn’t want to frighten him or overplay the threat. “Well,” continued John, “You saw what Darrel was capable of. Just imagine a large group of his type here in our neighborhood.” John saw Paul flinch at his words. “I know it sounds terrible, but that sort of thing happens around the world, and has occurred across the span of time. It’s how invading armies fed and motivated their forces. They took anything and everything, including slaves.”

“How do we defend ourselves against something like that?”

“There are ways, but we can’t do it alone. We’d need to rally everyone in the neighborhood. First, we’ll have to convince them there’s a threat, and then motivate them to prepare and man defenses,” said John.

“That shouldn’t be too hard to do,” added Paul.

“It will be harder than you think. Take you for example, if Darrel didn’t attack you, where would your heart be on the matter of defense and security?”

“I see what you mean,” said Paul.

“By the way, how did Darrel get into your house?”

Paul was silent for a moment. Apparently replaying the event in his mind was too painful for him to discuss openly. “I understand if you don’t want to talk about it,” said John.

“No. It’s not that,” replied Paul. “We just let her walk right in, and I think Darrel followed right behind her.”

John nodded. Apparently Darrel had learned something about conducting home invasions since visiting John’s home previously that day. He now wished he had done more to prevent Darrel from terrorizing the Hernandez family instead of just letting him go. He could have cuffed him right then and there, but he didn’t know what the man was capable of. Apprehending Darrel wasn’t justified at the time. He didn’t enter John’s house. As John reviewed his first encounter with Darrel, he realized that he couldn’t have handled it any other way. “So the woman came to the door and you invited her in?” asked John.

“I was upstairs,” said Paul. “Marissa opened the door for her, and when I came downstairs they were already in the house.” Paul covered his eyes with one hand and continued. “He had a knife to Marissa’s throat, and he told me to bring all my guns out or he would cut her. The boys were screaming and crying. I brought out my shotgun, it was the only gun I had. I should have shot him. It was much worse for us after I gave up my gun,” finished Paul.

“That’s usually how it works,” said John, “so, why didn’t you shoot him? Was he standing right behind your wife?” asked John.

“Yes. But his head and shoulder was exposed. I thought about shooting him, but I didn’t want to hit Marissa, and I know shotguns can blast large areas,” answered Paul.

“How far were you standing from him?”

“About twelve feet,” said Paul.

“You could have shot him in the head from that range, but you have to know where to aim for that kind of shot. When you’re that close with a shotgun, the shot pattern is still pretty tight. I’ll show you how to do it someday,” said John.

“So you’re saying I screwed up?” said Paul, defensively.

“Not at all,” said John. He wanted to tell Paul he shouldn’t have surrendered his shotgun to a knife, but he knew Paul didn’t need the criticism. “You did the right thing. You would have hated yourself even more if you hit Marissa with the shotgun blast, or if he cut her when you missed.”

“You’re right, I couldn’t shoot because I was afraid for Marissa. He told his woman to take the shotgun from me, and I didn’t even think to shoot her. From that point on our lives were a living hell,” said Paul, as he rubbed his eyes and looked away from John.

“Well, you survived. Your family survived. And you learned from the experience. But we have work to do. Are you ready to drive your van to my place?” asked John.

“Yes. I’m ready.”

“OK, you drive the van to my house and I’ll go deliver the girl to the police. When I return, we’ll come back and load up the rest of your supplies. How does that sound?”

“It sounds good to me,” said Paul, as he stood up. “John. I really don’t know how to thank you for saving us. I don’t know how I can ever repay you.”

John stood. They clasped hands, embraced with a quick single slap on the back, and pushed away from each other. “You don’t owe me anything,” said John, sincerely. “I’m just sorry I didn’t come earlier.”

“I’m just glad you came when you did, and that you knew how to take care of the problem. I can see I have a lot to learn if I’m going to survive this disaster,” replied Paul.

“You and me both,” said John. “Now let’s get out of here.”

John closed the garage door as soon as Paul pulled out with the van. He tossed Luanne’s vest into the cab of Darrel’s pickup truck, along with two water bottles and a can of chili, and drove away. As he left the neighborhood, John considered his options in dealing with the woman. A part of him wanted to drive her out to a remote stretch of road, shoot her in the head, and then leave the body, but he knew he couldn’t do that. Despite the fact that she posed a serious threat to their survival, John couldn’t bring himself to execute her for anything less than a witnessed murder. And since she didn’t kill anyone, at least not to his knowledge anyway, he didn’t feel justified in executing her.

He also wasn’t inclined to take her to the cops for all the reasons he already considered, but mostly because the conditions changed even more. With her partner dead and buried in Paul’s backyard, John knew he couldn’t take her to the cops. That pretty much left him with only one option; let the woman go. But where to let her go was a considerable problem. Too close and she could make her way back to the neighborhood, too far and John would put his own survival, and the survival of his family, at risk.

When he reached the highway, John decided to drop her off on the outskirts of a neighboring town just to the south of them, as far from Krum as he could manage. He hoped she would get caught up in the exodus to reach the ash free zone in the south, so when the pickup’s odometer reached twenty-five miles, John began to search for a suitable place to pull over.

He wanted to talk to her a bit before he let her go, so he looked for a place that he could work without attracting any attention. He saw several large grain silos up ahead and pulled in behind one of the adjacent out-buildings. John stopped the truck and climbed out. After lowering the tailgate, he reached in and dragged the woman to the edge of the
gate by her ankles. She squealed in fear and surprise as John sat her up and removed her blindfold. She looked around wildly.

“Calm down, Luanne. I’m not going to hurt you,” said John. “I’ll remove your gag and release your hands, but if you scream, I’ll tie you back up and leave you on the railroad tracks over there.” Her eyes got big and she nodded understanding.

With a small pocketknife, John carefully slit the tape by her hair and slowly peeled it away from her mouth. True to her word she remained quiet. He then reached behind her and released her wrists. She immediately brought her hands forward and began to rub her wrists. John handed her a water bottle and said, “Drink this.” She quickly opened the bottle and gulped it down. “Feel better?” he asked.

She studied him for a moment and said, “You won’t get away with this you . . .”

In a flash, John drew his pistol and aimed it at her face. She grew quiet once again. “Now let me explain something to you, Luanne; if you communicate so much as a single threat to me or my family, I’ll shoot you right here and leave your body for the dogs. Do I make myself clear?” She nodded deeply. “Good. Now answer a few questions for me and I’ll let you go. Why did you come to our neighborhood?”

“I don’t know. Darrel knew about it. I think he did some work there once. He said it was a quiet neighborhood, and easy pick’ns . . . that we could take whatever we wanted,” mewed Luanne.

“Including innocent life?”

“I never wanted to hurt those people,” she cried.

“Stop your tears, they won’t work with me. I know you’re harder than that,” spat John. She stopped crying and glared at John with contempt. “What’s the name of my development?” he asked.

“What?”

“Where do I live?” asked John, patiently, as he holstered his pistol.

“I don’t know. It was my first time there. Everything was dark and dusty.”

“I believe you, Luanne. I’ve got your driver’s license, do you still live at the same address?”

“Are you a cop?”

“That doesn’t concern you,” said John, as he returned her license to his pocket.

“I know my rights,” she complained.

“You do? And what rights are those, Luanne?” asked John, genuinely curious about where her mind was at the moment.

“I have a right to . . . to a lawyer.”

“And what rights did the Hernandez family have when you invaded their home?”

“They invited me in.”

“Really? That’s interesting,” said John, with obvious cynicism in his voice. “So when someone invites you into their home, what they’re really saying is come in and beat us, tie us up and rape us, and steal our food before you burn our house down around us? What kind of world do you live in, Luanne?”

“We live in the new world. It’s survival of the fittest. The strong will rule the weak!”

“And what is weakness? Is it weakness not to shoot someone when they’re holding a knife at your wife’s throat?” asked John. He was completely irritated with Luanne and her rationalization for violence. He was already having second thoughts about turning her loose. “Do you think the violence I used against you was unfair?” She was silent, perhaps suspecting a trap. “Answer my question, Luanne. Do you think you are being treated unfairly?”

“No. I guess not, but you killed Darrel.”

“Yes. Darrel is dead, but not by my hands. I know you heard the verbal exchange.”

“You stopped that man from killing me, too,” she said, and lowered her head. “Do you have any more water?”

John pulled another water bottle from his cargo pocket and handed it to her. “Yes, I stopped him from killing you. Did I make a mistake? Should I have let him kill you, Luanne?”

“Thanks for saving me . . .”

John snorted and said, “Well, that’s more than I expected from you. Now I have one more question. What are you going to do with yourself when I let you go?”

“What do you mean?”

“What do you mean, what do I mean? What . . . are . . . you . . . going . . . to . . . do . . . when I let you go? Where are you going to go? What are your plans?”

She took another long drink from her water bottle and looked John straight in the eye. “I can be your woman.”

It took all of John’s strength not to laugh in her face. The absurdity of her offer told John everything he needed to know about her life; about how she was raised and who she hung out with. It was sad, and for the first time since subduing her, John actually felt sorry for her. “Luanne, I’ve got a woman. And you don’t need to surrender yourself to any man, but I doubt there’s anything I can say that will help you see yourself as more than just a toy, or puppet, for some worthless turd like Darrel.”