Holding Their Own: A Story of Survival (35 page)

They waited until dark and slowly pulled away from their home of the last week. Neither of them were sad to see it go, and they both enjoyed the truck’s air conditioning. Bishop could raise his arm up to about shoulder high, but it was still very weak. While he had always practiced shooting one-handed, his skills were never as good as using both, and he prayed there wouldn’t be any trouble.

Meraton, Texas – September 24, 2015

Are those lights, or are you just glad to see me?

They were traveling at 30 mph
, and both were keeping a keen lookout for anything unusual. The land was open, mountainous desert for as far as the eye could see and had been that way for hours. Bishop asked Terri to stop, and she pulled to the side of the road. He could see lights in the distance and was sure it was Meraton. “They have electricity!” he told Terri.

To be accurate, Meraton had lights, but not electrical power. The county had decided that Meraton had a chance to become the next big growth area for the local tax base. This was primarily due to the artistic and culinary crowd that had previously relocated there. Since these peo
ple were a little more liberal than the traditional Texas resident, going green was thought to be a way to attract even more relocation and growth. When federal grant money became available in one of the seemingly endless programs to create jobs, the commissioners had jumped on it and received funding to install solar streetlights.

Not to be outdone, The Manor installed a solar system for its pool and garden lights and immediately marketed it
self as a green destination. The good citizens of Meraton really didn’t care much about green energy; they were happy to finally have streetlights in their growing little town.

To Bishop and Terri, the entire town appeared to have power, but what they were seeing was actually the twinkle of six new solar powered streetlights and glow of The Manor’s gardens. Bishop scanned with the big rifle’s scope for almost 15 minutes and didn’t see any moving cars. He did notice several horses tied in front of one building. The Manor had numerous cars parked along its entrance, which fronted Main Street. If he had been returning from a two-month hunting trip in the Glass Mountains, the town would show no sign that a major collapse in society had occurred while he was gone. Everything looked absolutely normal.

They talked it over for a bit and decided to
boldly drive right into town. As they approached the outskirts, Bishop asked Terri to turn on the truck’s headlights, and they put away their NVD equipment. The first business on the edge of town was a gas station. Bishop noted that it looked like a normal, closed gas station - no broken glass or evidence of looting at all. They went by a few, dark art galleries, and everything looked fine. The entire length of Main Street showed no clue that anything was wrong. Everything seemed as it should on a weekday night after all of the businesses had closed for the day.

The building with all of the horses out front didn’t have a sign, but Bishop could see candles burning inside.

They pulled around to the back of The Manor’s grounds and parked in the rear lot. Bishop was unsure of what to do. He didn’t know if he should just walk up to the door and ask if there were any vacancies or scout around for a bit with his rifle. As they were talking it over, Terri saw a man looking out of the garden gate at them, and thought he had a rifle. She pointed, but by the time Bishop looked up, he was gone. “Let’s drive around a bit more and see what is going on.”

There really wasn’t much of Meraton to drive around and see. The small city park, complete with fishing lake and the only trees in town, was closed, but that was normal at this hour. They passed the cemetery, and Bishop nervously made a bad joke about
people just dying to get into the place
. Terri started to punch him in his sore arm, but stopped at the last moment. They drove through two small sections of homes. A few had dim light glowing through the windows. None appeared to have been looted.

They wound up back on Main and were heading to The Manor, when Bishop saw two men getting on their horses. Terri stopped right in the middle of the street, and Bishop got out to investigate.

“Howdy,” he said to them, carefully positioning his body between the men and Terri.

“Howdy. That you driving around town
, mister?” one of them asked.

“Yes sir, we haven’t been here for a while and wanted to see what had changed.”

“Not often people waste gas like that these days. We saw you drive in from the east. Where from?”

“Houston,” Bishop replied.

“Houston? How long ago did you leave Houston?”

“About a month ago - something like that. We wanted to take the scenic route.”

“We ain’t seen anyone come from the east in two weeks. I heard it was purdy bad. That true?”

“You heard right.” Bishop pointed to the building they had just
left and said, “Is everyone having a church social?”

Both of the cowboys laughed, and the older one said, “Naw, that’s Pete’s place. He just opened up before the electric went out. He is out of the hard stuff, but he has beer and maybe some wine for your lady over there. If you’re thirsty and have something to trade, he will make it right.”

The other cowboy added, “We ain’t had a stiff drink for going on three weeks. There’s a bright side though. Bill ain’t fell off his horse since then neither.”

Everyone, including Bill laughed and after a bit, Bishop questioned, “If I could provide something a little stronger than beer, could I swap it for information?”

“Depends on what ya got to trade and what you want to ask. But hell, I don’t know any secrets, so let’s give it a try.” Both men dismounted and re-tied their horses. Bishop noticed they both wore side arms, so he decided to take his .45 and told Terri to do the same with her pistol. She gave him a look that said,
Do you really think I would go in there without it?
While they parked the truck, Bishop noticed several faces watching them through the window.

Bill waited while the other man went back inside, and Bishop could hear laughter drifting out from the door. Bishop asked Bill if the tru
ck would be okay where it was. Bill just nodded and turned to go inside the bar. Bishop dug the full bottle of bourbon out of the back and locked the camper shell anyway.

He went in first and looked around. Were it not for all nine of the men inside wearing pistols, it would have looked just like any Country and Western watering hole in this part of the world. The shotgun lying on the bar was another dead giveaway that this was not your typical small town icehouse.

As Bishop paused to take it all in, he couldn’t help but wonder if this were what it had been like in the Old West. The distinct smell of the horses, candles, and saddle leather filled his head. It all seemed to belong to another time. There were no video games, and the television over the bar was dark and quiet. The only noise was the low, gentle hum of people with nothing else to do, but talk to other people. He wondered how many times this scene had been played out? Terri and he were the strangers, arriving in town at the local saloon. The townsfolk, half-bored, half-nosey, and concerned about troublemakers, were trying to size them up without giving insult or acting like they cared. If the situation had not been so serious, Bishop would have been tempted to hook his thumbs in his pockets, belly up to the bar, and declare, “Barkeep – I got three days ride in mah throat and need to wash it down.”
Terri would pull her pistol and shoot me on the spot.

The neon signs above the bar were dark, but there were enough candles to see quite the assortment of animals mounted on the walls. A few signs, advertising different brands of beer and other refreshments were scattered among the trophies. It was a small town
, smoke-filled barroom, complete with peanut shells on the floor. He could see two women in the place, so clearly it wasn’t stud. Everyone turned to see what was happening as they darkened the door. And when Terri walked in behind Bishop, all the men tipped their hats and said “Ma’am.”

Bishop and Terri went to a corner table, and he pulled out her chair. Before he sat down, he slowly removed the .45 from his belt and then took the bottle out from under his arm. Everyone tried not to stare at them, but Bishop recognized they were the center of attention. A short, stocky man came out from behind the bar and said, “I’m Pete, and this is my place. I’m sorry, but we only have warm beer and wine. It’s the best I can do right now.” Bishop shook the barkeep’s hand and then reached for the bottle and handed it to Pete, who held it up to the light, and then let out a whistle. He looked at Bishop and shyly commented, “I wouldn’t have anything of this quality even if the trucks were still delivering.”

Bishop reassured him, “Pete, I would like to share that with everyone. We are celebrating tonight and don’t have any old friends here to join us. Would you do the honors for anyone who would like a drink?”

Bishop could see smiles breaking out all over the bar, and Pete went around showing everyone the bottle. While most had no idea of what it was, one thing was certain - it was not warm beer, and that was good enough for them. Pete poured the first two glasses and mixed water with the dark liqui
d. He brought them around and set them on the table in front of Terri and Bishop. Soon, everyone had a drink in their hands and looked at Bishop. He held up his glass and toasted, “New Friends.” Everyone took a sip.

After the second round, the locals started talking
, and conversation flowed freely. Bishop and Terri split up for a little bit when Terri started talking to one of the other women. The men gathered at the end of the bar, and Bishop joined them, absorbing as much information as he could.

At one point, he looked up and saw two men walking around his truck. He stuck the .45 in his belt and started to head for the door, when Bill stopped him. “They won’t bother your truck
, mister. They are two of that group staying down at the Manor. They have been there for going on 10 days now. After they first came into town, they shot one of the Lazy T’s hands, but claimed it was a fair fight. They have a man with them, seems to be the leader. He keeps them in line, and there hasn’t been any trouble since.”

Bishop watched as the two guys circled the truck twice and then headed on down the road. He could see they were both carrying long guns under their jackets
, and their eyes were always looking around.

“Are there any rooms at T
he Manor?” he asked.

“I’m not sure, but I wouldn’t stay there. I’ve heard those Ohio boys are awful mean
, and most folks staying there have left. I don’t think Harry is even manning the front desk anymore.”

One of the cowboys asked a woman, “Is Betty still taking bo
arders at her bed and breakfast?”

“She would if they were clean, quiet and had something to barter with.”

Pete returned the bottle to their table with about one quarter left in the bottom. Bishop waved him off and said he could have it. Pete replied, “Thank you, but you should reconsider. Money is no good here anymore. We all trade for what we need, and this is a high value trade.”

Bishop and Terri got directions to Betty’s house and stood up to leave. Bishop nodded at Pete as if to say, “Thank you
, and we will be back.”

Pete nodded and smiled, as if to say, “You are welcome anytime.”

Bishop and Terri said good-bye to all of their new friends and left to find Betty’s B&B.

Bed and Breakfast and Guns

There were still candles burning in the windows when they found Betty’s. It was a single story stucco home about a mile outside of town. It had a nice yard and looked welcoming. Bishop recommended Terri go up to the door. But before she could knock, a middle-aged lady with a round face appeared. Bishop’s heart stopped when he saw an old double barrel shotgun in the woman’s hands. It didn’t take long before she set it down, and the two
girls were talking like old friends. Terri waved at Bishop, and he got out of the truck as Terri introduced him to Betty.

Betty didn’t have any guests, but she wanted to know what they could trade. She listed eggs, flour, laundry soap and toothpaste as the things she needed. Bishop offered some detergent, but that was the only item from her list they had to barter with. Betty looked over his shoulder and asked if
his truck had air conditioning. When he told her it did, she then inquired if it had a CD player, which it did. Betty said she would take two loads of laundry soap and one hour sitting in the truck so she could listen to her music in the cool air.

Bishop smiled and said,
“Deal.” They shook hands.

Betty had a carriage house and suggested Bishop park the truck inside since ther
e hadn’t been any law around for days and days. Bishop took her up on her offer, pulled the truck inside, and closed the door. The garage even had a lock.

Their senses heightened from their experiences of the last few weeks, Terri and Bishop were more aware of their surroundings. Normally the sound of pots and pans banging around a bit might have gone unnoticed. But in these still unfamiliar surroundings, the noise awakened them soon after daybreak. The sound startled Bishop, and he tensed up momentarily. His fears quickly subsided, wooed by the delightful aromas wafting through the air. They dressed and headed downstairs to greet their host. They enjoyed some coffee as Betty presented them with breakfast burritos, complete with rice, a little ham, and a touch of eggs. Mealtime conversation centered on everything they had learned the night before.

The power had gone out in Meraton about the same time as the electricity failed in metropolitan Houston, according to the refugees that had drifted through town from that direction. At the time of the blackout, the residents didn’t pay much attention because that kind of thing happened now and then. A few years before, power had been out for two days, and there hadn’t been any storms of any kind.