Escaping Home (9 page)

T
he next morning I was up early, and woke the girls up as well. I wanted to spend a little time with them and looking for the trailer together was a good excuse. Over breakfast, I told Mel and the girls that Ted would be coming down later to spend some time with them on weapon training.

“We already know how to shoot,” Taylor said as she finished her oatmeal.

“I know, but there is a lot more to it than that.”

“Why can't you teach us?” Mel asked.

“Because I'm not a good teacher. I know how to use the weapons and I know a lot of what he'll show you, but he'll probably show you things I don't know.”

“Too bad Mike isn't going to do it,” Lee Ann said.

The statement caught me off guard. I looked up at her and she looked at Taylor, which made me look at Taylor. Taylor realized we were looking at her.

“What?”

“You'd rather have Mike teach us,” Lee Ann said with a smile.

“Nuh-uh! Shut up, Lee Ann!”

I looked at Mel and she shrugged her shoulders at me. “Ted's going to do the instructing.” I chuckled. “Or Sarge could do it.”

“No, Ted's good, we'll take Ted,” Taylor said.

“What? You don't like the old man?”

Lee Ann looked over. “He's kinda scary.”

That made me laugh out loud. “Oh, just wait till I tell him that!”

She looked at Mel. “Mom!”

“He's not going to say anything”—Mel looked at me—“are you?”

“Nope, you're scarier than he could ever be.”

Little Bit started to laugh and Mel reached out to swat me, but I was too quick. “I'll remember that.”

“You girls ready? We need to go look for a trailer before you go to quick-draw school.”

They scrambled for the door and hopped in the truck.

Any house that we couldn't see into the backyard of from the road required us to get out and look around. Foot searches gave us a look into how people were living prior to what looked like very hasty departures.

We made our way to the backyard of a house with a high privacy fence. After wandering around, Lee Ann called me over. Pointing at the ground, she asked, “What's that?”

A pile of bones lay where she pointed. I pushed them over with my boot. “Looks like lots of things—squirrels, rabbits . . .” I trailed off, not wanting to go into further detail about what looked like cat and dog skulls.

“Why are all the bones broken?” She was knelt down, looking intently at the pile.

“Well, they probably broke them open to get the marrow out.”

“Oh, that's
gross
.”

“It wasn't to the people who were living here. Just think of how hungry they must have been.”

“Not me, no way.” Little Bit was walking around a small metal shed in the corner of the yard as the wind shifted and the undeniable odor of human waste hit me. I realized it must be coming from the shed and yelled, “Hey, kiddo, stay away from there.” I damn sure didn't want her to open the door and reveal the horrors that certainly lay inside.

She looked back pinching her nose, “Pee yew, it stinks!”

I followed Lee Ann over to what must have been the location of the cooking fire. The area around it was trampled and littered with slivers of wood. Another dirt path lead to the patio. A couple of cinder blocks were arranged around it with grill grates on top of them. Lee Ann was looking at the makeshift grill, then at the patio and the large stainless grill.

“Why'd they do this if they have that big grill?”

“That's a gas grill. When they ran out of propane for it, which wouldn't have taken long, they had to do this,” I said, kneeling down by the pit.

A couple of pots, their bottoms and sides blackened from the fires, sat on the ground, their insides wet and greasy looking. Taylor came over and looked at the pots. “This is so gross. How can anyone live like this?”

I looked up at them. “Guys, we're not far from this ourselves.” I paused for a moment to let that to sink in. “That kerosene for the stove isn't going to last forever, you know.”

“You'd find a way, Dad. You always do,” Lee Ann said, smiling at me.

I could only hope that I lived up to their opinion of me. Just the thought of them and Mel squatting around a filthy fire pit like this saddened me. I could only imagine how horrible it was for these people before they finally gave up and left. Who could blame them? Before, when things were still normal and we talked of FEMA camps with the same amount of belief as we had for unicorns, I said many a time that I would never let my family go to one. Now, looking at the desperation around me, my girls standing in the middle of it, I couldn't say the same thing. What good are freedom and liberty if you have to live like an animal in the dirt?

Little Bit came trotting back over. “Dad, can we leave? I don't like it here.”

“Yeah, I'm with her, let's go. There's no trailer here,” Taylor said as she headed for the gate.

It took another hour or so to find a trailer in the neighborhood. It was sitting beside a workshop behind one of the houses on the main road. Little Bit and Taylor found it, calling me over. It was a six-by-eight Wells Cargo with a ramp on the rear, and it was perfect for us. Dropping the ramp I was met with a stack of cabinets. They were very nicely constructed of hardwood, already stained and sealed.

“Dad, those would be great at the cabin,” Taylor said. I nodded my head—it would be a shame to leave them here with nobody to use them.

We walked back around to the front of the large shop. The entry door was locked, and so was the garage door. But I really wanted a look inside, so I went to the house with the girls following me.

Knowing it was probably a waste of time, I knocked on the front door and listened. In our new world sound was almost as important as sight. After a few seconds, I knew no one was coming to the door, so I checked to see if it was unlocked.

We tried all the doors, without any success. Whoever lived here was long gone, so I went back to the rear porch and broke out a window. As soon as the glass gave, a smell I recognized all too well enveloped us. Lee Ann, who'd always had a weak stomach, immediately began to vomit. Taylor and Little Bit covered their faces and ran. Poor Lee Ann was retching so hard she couldn't even walk; I had to pick her up at the waist and carry her around the side of the house, spewing the entire way.

When I got there Little Bit was crying and Taylor's eyes were watering.

“What is that smell?! That is so disgusting!”

“Don't know, but I'm going to go in.”

“No, Daddy, don't go in there, please don't go in there!” Little Bit cried.

I knelt down in front of her. “I'll be okay, baby. Can you go to the truck and get your sister a canteen of water?”

“Can Taylor come with me?”

Taylor reached out and took her hand and lead her to the truck. I spun around to Lee Ann and checked on her. She was fine, just really queasy and a rather unbecoming shade of green. I told her to stay put and I'd be back in a few minutes.

Tying the bandanna around my face, I stepped into the house. I checked all the drawers in the kitchen, not finding anything, and then moved into the living room.

It was there I found the source of the smell. He was a big man, probably in his late fifties, with a bullet wound in his head. He was fully reclined in a nice La-Z-Boy chair, a Colt government-model .45 lying on the floor beside him. Seeing a body like that really makes you think what was going through the person's head in their last moments to bring them to that fate. The answer to that question was on the nightstand beside the bed. An empty vial of Humalog insulin and a needle sat there. Now it was clear: he had run out of insulin and knew there was no way to get more.

I made my way back toward the living room but still couldn't locate the keys. I was frustrated by this search, and the smell was starting to get to me. Going back past the body toward the kitchen, it hit me. I knew where those keys were.
I do not want to do this,
I thought.

I leaned over and patted his pockets. Nothing. Then, running my hands around his waist, I found them hanging from a hook on his belt. Unclipping them as carefully as I could, so as not to disturb the corpse any more, I pulled them out. Gripping the keys firmly in my hand, I said, “Thanks,” then bent over and picked up the pistol, flipping the safety on before leaving the house.

Outside I checked on the girls, who were now all sitting in the truck. Lee Ann looked up at me wearily. “Dad, can we go now?”

“Just hang on a minute, guys. Let me check something.”

“What's in there?” Taylor asked.

I pressed my lips together and shook my head. She didn't need any more explanation than that. “I'll be right back,” I said as I headed for the shop.

Please let the right key be on here; I don't want to go back in there.
I found it on the second try and soon was inside what turned out to be a very nicely equipped woodworking shop.

After connecting the trailer to the truck, we headed to Reggie's place. Danny was there, loading up more supplies.

“Hey, Sarge, come over and check this out,” I said as I got out.

“This the trailer you're going to use for the power plant?” Sarge asked.

“Yeah, as soon as we get these things out of here.”

“Let's get that hog loaded up so we can get our fuel on the way there.”

We caught the big boar and trussed him up and loaded him into Sarge's trailer along with an empty drum and four five-gallon gas cans. Since Ted was going to stay and work with the girls and we needed security at the barricade, this was going to be a quick run. Doc and Danny would watch the barricade and Reggie and Thad would go with us, Thad riding with me and Reggie with Sarge.

At the store, the trade went smoothly. The old woman had a couple of extra hands around to handle the hog while others pumped the gas. Thad and I leaned against the side of the trailer, keeping a casual eye on them as they worked.

Looking at the store, Thad said, “I sure wish they had some Little Debbie oatmeal pies in there.”

“Oh man, those things are good. Bad for you, but good,” I replied. Just thinking of those tasty little cakes gave me a sweet tooth from hell.

Thad looked over and grinned. “Really bad for you, but right now, I'd eat a whole box of 'em.”

“Correction, there, big fella: you'd eat half a box, 'cause I'd eat the other half.”

It didn't take long to get everything topped off. Thad reached in and checked the cans, then gave the drum a push. Looking back at me, he nodded, and I went over to Sarge, who was still entertaining the old woman.

“We're ready to roll.”

“Come back when yer ready fer more gas.”

Sarge smiled at her and tipped his hat. “Pleasure doing business with you.”

Together we walked back to the vehicles. Looking over at him I asked, “So when's the date?”

“Huh?”

I looked back over my shoulder at the old woman. “You an' her. You sure were makin' a lot of time with her. Surely you got a date set up by now.”

I'd been around him enough now to recognize the posture, fists balled, jaw set and one eye squinted. He was ready to fight. I immediately started to move faster.

“You little shit!” he shouted as he tried to kick me, his boot brushing my ass. I jumped into the truck and locked the door.

Thad smiled and leaned forward to look past me. Sarge jutted his index finger at Thad. In response Thad held his hands up and shook his head in a “not me” gesture.

“Man, he's pissed,” Thad said as Sarge finally headed for his ride, giving us the finger over his shoulder all the way.

“Yeah, this should be fun for days.”

Thad let out a loud laugh. “Yeah, go tell Mike about it. It'll give 'em both something to do!”

We made it to the cabins in short order. Jeff met us as we were getting out. Sarge jabbed his index finger at me and Thad, yelling, “Fuck you and you!”

“What the hell's that about?” Jeff asked, obviously confused.

“Something about his love life,” I said as Mike came around the corner of the cabin.

“Dammit, Morgan, I swear to God! I'll stomp a mud hole in yer ass an' kick it dry!”

Never one to miss a beat, Mike said, “Sex'll have to wait, old man. We got problems.”

Sarge's eyes almost rolled down his cheeks. “Holy mother of God!”

“Calm down, Sarge. Follow me.” Mike was chuckling as he led us toward the back of the cabin.

When we rounded the corner, we could see three young men standing in the pigpen. A third strand of wire had been strung up about chest high. As we approached I could see it was Chris, Chase's son from up the road. The pen was small and they were standing shoulder to shoulder.

“What the hell are they doing there?” Sarge barked.

“We caught 'em inside the cabin,” Jeff said.

Sarge looked at Jeff, then turned back to the boys. “What the
hell
you doing inside our cabins?”

Two of the boys looked at the ground. Chris, however, stood there indifferently. “We were just looking around. And it's not your cabin anyway.”

“Says who?”

Mike raised his eyebrows and grinned at me. This kid had no idea who he was playing with.

“Nobody. You guys just came out here and took them; no one said you could.”

“And no one said I couldn't. Possession is nine-tenths of the law.”

“Well, then, since we went in, they're ours now,” Chris said with a sarcastic smirk.

One of the other boys gave him a sideways glance. “Shut up, man, we're already in enough trouble.”

“So what, what's he going to do? Call the cops?”

“Sorry there, smartass, no cops to save your ass now!” Sarge exclaimed. “Let's get this crap unloaded,” Sarge barked. “We'll deal with these fools later.”