Hope (3 page)

Charlotte thought for a moment and realized she didn’t have any power, and if he was going to hurt her, he could do so regardless. She turned slightly and offered him her hands.

Drew untied her hands and then her feet. “All better.”

Charlotte still couldn’t find her ability to speak unless it was about Hope.

Seeing nothing but fear coming from Charlotte, Drew tried to calm her with casual conversation. “Your sister told me your name is Charlotte. That’s a beautiful name. Mine is Drew, short for Andrew, but no one’s called me that since I was a kid.”

Charlotte nodded.

Time wasn’t his ally, so he decided to alleviate her fear with some reassuring words. “I’m one of the good guys. I won’t hurt you and I’ll make sure they don’t either.”

“I want to see Hope,” Charlotte blurted out.

“I’ll see about making that happen.”

“What are you going to do with us?”

Drew looked down; his long black hair fell around his face. “Nothing if I can help it.”

“What do they want to do with us?”

He looked up and said, “You have to trust me; I’ll keep you safe.” Drew got up quickly and exited the room.

“Neither should a ship rely on one small anchor, nor should life rest on a single hope.”
– Epictetus

El Centro, CA

Carlos slid the blade of his Spyderco Police model folding knife across the whetstone. The gritty sound the steel made crossing the stone brought back fond memories of his childhood. Like a skipping record, the voice of his father would repeat the process of sharpening a blade. After a dozen passes, he gently touched the edge with his thumb. “Just about right.”

He ran the blade a half dozen more times across the stone then closed it and placed it back in his right-hand pocket of his blue jeans.

He glanced at his old Timex watch before removing it and winding it for the day. It too brought back memories, as it was a gift from his father. The watch had been inexpensive and wasn’t worth much, but to Carlos it was priceless, as it represented his father’s struggle for freedom many years ago in Cuba. That watch had been with him during his fight against Fidel Castro and journeyed with him across the ocean as they fled the island nation to find a new home in America.

Carlos knew nothing of his father’s struggles except for the few stories detailed over the years. The watch came to Carlos on his sixteenth birthday, but it wasn’t until later in life did he appreciate its significance. He thought that only when someone experienced true misery or suffering did they gain a real understanding of how precious life and happiness were.

Carlos missed his father and wished he were with him and his family. Having a man like him during this current strife would be beneficial, but alas, it couldn’t be. His father had passed ten years back, but he didn’t leave alone. He had arrived in a new land with nothing and no one, but the day he closed his eyes for the last time he was surrounded by the loving family he had created.

With his knife sharpened and his watch set, Carlos was ready to tackle the day ahead. He exited the garage, which doubled as his shop, and entered the house. The first thing that hit his nostrils was the savory smell of fried eggs. Instantly his stomach grumbled and mouth watered. He weaved through the hallway until he reached the small kitchen; there he found his wife, Natalie, and his son, Ricardo.

“Good morning,” Natalie said, not taking her attention away from the eggs cooking.

“How’s the fuel looking on the stove?” Carlos asked, referring to the gas canister on the old Coleman camping stove.

“This tank is half full, but I have two more. Thank God you found that stash,” Natalie replied.

“Dad, when can I come with you?” Ricardo asked, his somber face buried in his hands.

Carlos walked over to him and rubbed his shoulders. “Soon, very soon.”

“That’s what you always say,” Ricardo grumbled.

Carlos sat down next to him and leaned close. “Ricky, my son, it’s dangerous out there. I need to make sure you’re capable of handling yourself first, plus your mother—”

Cutting Carlos off, Natalie interjected, “Will never allow it, period.”

“I’m eleven, I can shoot a gun, and you’ve taught me how to fight with a knife,” Ricardo moaned.

Carlos felt for his son. He knew too well the desire to see what was happening outside the comfort and relative safety of their small community. He patted Ricardo on the head and said, “Soon, I promise.”

Ricardo pulled away and, in frustration, got up from the table and stormed off.

“Ricky, sit back down,” Carlos urged.

Ricardo didn’t listen and disappeared down the hall.

“I’m going to have to get him schooled up and soon, you know that,” Carlos stated flatly.

“He’s just a boy.”

“Those are old sensibilities; times are different. He needs to see and experience the world when we can have some control.”

“No.”

“Natalie, you think you’re protecting him, but he has to see it before it comes here unannounced.”

Natalie carefully placed perfectly cooked eggs over easy on a plate and turned to face Carlos. “He’s not ready.”

“I agree, but soon he will be.”

She stepped over to Carlos and set the plate down. “I’m not ready for that.”

Carlos took her hand and said, “Trust me; I wouldn’t put him in a situation that could get him hurt.”

“You don’t know that. You even remarked the other day how you know something bad will happen. You sat right there and said we’ve been lucky but that luck would soon run out. I don’t want that luck to run out when you’re out there with Ricky.”

Carlos sighed. He picked up the fork next to his plate and poked the eggs until the golden thick yolk oozed onto his plate. He lowered his head and breathed in deeply. “They smell delicious.”

“And they are, I made them,” Natalie joked.

“Where’s your dad?” Carlos asked, referring to Natalie’s father, who was living with them now.

“Still in bed. He said he wasn’t feeling well.”

“Hmm, sorry to hear that. I’ll call off our run today,” Carlos said.

“No, you go. We need you both out there. Pop will get up; he’s just feeling tired is all.”

“You sure?” Carlos asked, concerned about leaving them with her father not well. While they were gone on runs, Frank kept watch over the families.

“We’ll be fine. Now eat while they’re hot,” Natalie said, turning towards the stove.

As he ate, he couldn’t stop thinking about all the bad things that could go wrong, and the thought of Ricardo being in the middle of trouble haunted him, but at the same time he needed him to be prepared and capable. One of the only ways to do that was to get him out on the road. That wasn’t going to happen now, but soon, so in the meantime he’d need to keep training him.

Neal press checked the Sig Sauer P239 to ensure he had a round in the chamber before placing the pistol in the holster of his tactical vest. On his hip he carried a Glock 22. It was his main carry pistol, and he loved the .40 caliber; hence why he carried the Sig. That model came in a 9mm, but on one of his outings he came upon the .40-caliber version and made it his backup. He couldn’t be described as a gun lover before, but now he wouldn’t be caught without one outside the house. The Glock had been his since before, but it mostly remained in a safe in the closet.

The only disadvantage he thought they’d encounter later on was ammunition, but that hadn’t come true as of yet. In fact, they hadn’t yet had to use their weapons. He and Carlos had a few altercations, but none ever came to gunplay, and for that, he was grateful.

On his vest he carried one sheath knife, a 5.11 CFK, and three magazine pouches, one for each pistol and one for the M4, a Daniel Defense V3 he would take with him on any excursion. Of course, he owed his entire kit, minus the Sig, to Carlos.

Using the basking light of the morning sun, he finished checking his gear and readying himself for another day trip. Today, he and Carlos would push the furthest they had ever gone and go to the southern tip of Brawly, a town north of them. They didn’t know what they’d find, but the one resource that would be an issue for them soon was water.

Life in the desert was made bearable by electricity. All the major cities that many were familiar with—Las Vegas, Phoenix and others—were now drying up.

Neal and Carlos both knew their days were numbered in El Centro, but the question remained where to go next?

Feeling confident and ready, Neal entered his house to kiss Karen and Beth goodbye. Like many other rituals, this was one of the most important ones.

Embracing Karen, he squeezed her and whispered, “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Karen replied softly.

Neal knelt and faced Beth. He gazed into her eyes and with a gentle hand tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ears. “You and Mommy be good.”

“Okay.”

Neal pulled her close and, like he did with Karen, said, “I love you, never forget that.”

“I love you too.”

He stood and looked at the only thing that mattered to him. He took a mental picture of the two standing there and stored it in his memory. “I’ll be back just before dark.”

“Okay,” Karen said and nodded slightly.

“You know—”

“I know what to do,” Karen said, interrupting him. “Now go, the sooner you leave, the sooner you’ll return to us.”

“Love you guys,” he said and exited the house. Outside, he found Carlos leaning against the car, his arms crossed.

“Were you waiting long?” Neal asked.

“Nope, how’s the fam?”

“Good and yours?”

“Same. Hop in, we’ve got a long ride ahead of us,” Carlos said and slid into the driver’s seat of what he affectionately referred to as his ‘baby’, a black 1966 Lincoln Continental.

Neal got in and took a deep breath. “How is it that this thing always smells so good? Do you have a lifetime supply of air freshener?”

“Something like that,” Carlos replied, turning the key. The engine roared to life.

Carlos pulled away from the cul-de-sac. He weaved around the abandoned cars he and Neal had placed in the street to slow down the traffic going into their cul-de-sac. He pulled up just shy of the stop sign at the end so Neal could get out.

Neal exited the car and pulled away a homemade spike strip. Carlos pulled forward. Neal laid the strip back down and ran to the car.

“You ready for a good day?” Carlos asked as Neal sat down.

“I get so nervous leaving them here,” Neal lamented.

“Me too, but Natalie’s old man is a good shot. He was a jarhead back in the day.”

“I know your father-in- law is a solid guy, but I still hate it.”

Carlos patted Neal on the leg and said, “They’ll be fine.” He put the car back in gear and exited the neighborhood by taking a hard right.

“You know, I think this might be pointless,” Neal said, his gaze scanning the road ahead.

“We need water, it’s that simple,” Carlos said.

“But what about fuel, you said that soon the gas will start to go bad.”

“It will.”

“Then shouldn’t we pack up and go.”

“Go where?” Carlos asked.

“South, maybe Central America,” Neal replied.

“You’ve heard the rumors like I have. If we happen to make it to the Mexican checkpoints, we’ll only be turned around, and that’s a big if when saying we’ll make it. The road bandits or a roving cartel will probably get us before then. Going south is too risky.”

“But those are just rumors,” Neal said.

“Then why don’t we just go see if the feds will help us at one of those camps,” Carlos declared.

“Screw them.”

“So you’d rather take your chances with a cartel than your own government?”

Frustrated, Neal remained quiet, his eyes going back and forth on the road.

Carlos weaved the large Lincoln around the abandoned cars that riddled the roadway. “You good?” Carlos asked.

“You know, we could make a run for my sailboat in San Diego. It’s big enough for all of us. We could set sail for South America or Hawaii.”

“C’mon, Neal, you even said you weren’t the best sailor and that boat was a bit too big for you to handle.”

“Taking that boat seems less risky than our other options.”

“That’s if it’s even there anymore.”

Neal sighed.

“So Ricky got upset with me again this morning. He wants to come with us so badly, but you know Natalie.”

“You can’t win.”

“Nope.”

“I’m getting really nervous. We’ve got to make a plan, commit to it, and then act,” Neal stressed.

“I agree.”

Neal brought his right hand to his mouth and was about to nervously chew his nails but stopped short of doing it. It had been years since he quit that habit, but the circumstances rekindled the urge. He put his hand down and gripped his rifle.

“First thing we need to do before we plan any move is get more water.”

“It’s the stuff of life, they say,” Neal joked.

“That it is.”

Neal caught sight of a road sign that read BRAWLEY 9 MILES. “Let’s just pray we find what we need and get home safe.”

“Hey, my friend, have I ever let you down?” Carlos asked.

“No, but we’ve gone for too long with nothing happening. Our luck has to run out,” Neal worried.

“Luck? I don’t believe in luck.”

“Well, whatever you want to call it, we need more of it.”

Carlos patted Neal’s shoulder, winked and said, “We’ll be fine, brother, we’ll be fine.”

Two Miles South of Brawley, CA

“Carlos, slow down, slow down!” Neal barked.

Carlos did exactly as he asked and more as he brought the car to a gentle roll before stopping in the middle of the road.

“There, up there, you see it?” Neal asked, pointing to a glimmer in the middle of the road just on the horizon.

Carlos leaned over the steering wheel and squinted. “Where?”

“The glimmering straight ahead.”

“I don’t see anything.”

“Are you serious?”

Carlos leaned further as if the extra inch would bring what he couldn’t see into focus.

Neal looked at him and asked, “Are you fucking blind?”

“I, um, well, my long distance vision isn’t the best,” Carlos admitted.