The Storm (15 page)

              “Coal,” he said flatly. His disappointment wasn’t bitter, but he wasn’t holding it back. He had probably hoped this was a train carrying groceries. That would have been like hitting the lotto.

              It was up to me to cheer him back up. “Yeah, but coal is really useful and this looks like a lifetime supply. Let’s go grab some and start a quick fire here and warm up.” I climbed up the ladder on the side of the train cart and reached in with my right hand. Just as I had thought, each cart was filled to the brim with dirty, black coal. Quickly I grabbed several pieces and flung them down in his direction as he piled them up on the gravel that lined the tracks. “Get some twigs too,” I commanded, and he did.

              Within minutes, we had a small fire started and were huddling by it. As we both squatted and rubbed our hands together near the flame, Mohammad spoke up. “So other than a fire, what is useful about coal?”

              “Well, we aren’t going to be firing up a power plant and using it the way it was before, but we will need to stay warm in wintertime, and now we have a nearly endless supply for fire. Also, we can easily have fires to cook food and boil water to drink. Mohammad,” I said with a sense of seriousness, “this is a really good find for us. I forget the old hierarchy of people’s needs, but it was food and water and shelter, etc. Fire or warmth was always one that people needed, and now we have that locked down.”

              A large smile emerged, maybe the first of the day for him. His frail, thin cheeks displayed a sign of hope that had gone missing in recent days. “Very good, Josh. I like your attitude. We won’t have to worry about fire or fuel then, and that is something we can build on. I will be able to tell Chumi that I helped make the community a better place.” His smile grew a touch bigger, and it may even have displayed a small dose of pride. “We should still walk up and down and see what is in the other train. Maybe it has some useful cargo too?”

              “Yeah, I think we should too. I would be amazed if it had something valuable and hasn’t been picked clean yet. Think we should split up to cover it faster or stick together? The town meeting is in a couple of hours, and we will need to report back.”

              He nodded back at me and after five minutes of warming, we kicked the coals around to extinguish our fire. A thick, sooty, black smoke rose into the air as the cool dirt covered and smothered the small fire we had built. It occurred to me that a forest fire would be devastating, as we had no fire department and limited water. Maybe that was something to bring up as another issue. Right now everything was wet, so it seemed like it could wait.

              We first headed east and found the double engine train that was pulling everything. The engineers had long since left, and there was nothing of value except a half-f bottle of scotch. I wondered, did he drink it on the job or get drunk after the train broke down and he was trapped before finally venturing out? Either way, it was ours now. Some maps and charts were also present but not much else. If Zeke tried to toilet paper our street again, I mused that I might send him out here and make him sleep on the train.

              Back we went over our own footsteps and past the now smoldering ruins of our fire. The train was so long that I figured there were at least one hundred carts. All were loaded with coal, and then we turned our attention to the other train. Most of its box cars were open and visibly empty, but the final two were distinct. They were box-shaped and closed off on all sides, not like the empty box carts that could be peered into. Interesting, I wondered, maybe Mohammad was right and we would get something valuable.

              Stealing coal from a now defunct train really requires no moral assuaging, but smashing a lock and stepping into a large train box had a distinct flavor of mischief that gave it a certain thrill. Both Mohammad and I were looking around to make sure we were alone before we did the deed. Unlike the coal carts, these had a door, and I lit a match as I entered to provide some light.

              Mohammad was at the door, keeping watch outside. “What do you see? What’s in there?”

              I stood awestruck and just looked. This train box had more value in it than all the coal combined, by a longshot. Unfortunately for us, its value was diminished by the storm. I stared in disbelief and reached out with my left hand to touch what was in front of me.

              His voice was raised and was now begging with a sense of urgency. “Come on, Josh. What did you find?”

              My answer was simple. “Some really nice sports cars.”

              “Cars?” His confusion was apparent.

              “Nice ones. Ferraris and other ones you usually only see in movies or maybe rarely get a glimpse of on the street.”

              Mohammad climbed up and wanted to see. As he entered the dark car, he caught his shoulder on a large metal fragment, which slightly poked through his shirt and struck him. “Ouch!” he uttered more in surprise than pain. Each car had a clear plastic cover over it. One of these cars typically held more value than most people’s homes and probably was worth more than whole neighborhoods in places like where Mohammad came from. He was as starstruck as I was. “Wow. I always wanted to ride in one of these.”

              “Yeah, I guess we could out one and push it down a hill, but that would be a lot of work. Your shoulder okay?” He understood I was kidding but smiled at the thought.

              “It’s just a scratch. I’m fine. I will have Chumi clean it up at home. Do you think the cars are unlocked?” he asked me.

              “Give it a try.”

              He lifted the plastic cover and pulled on the door. To our surprise, it opened and came straight up at us with a whirring sound. The smell that so recognizable to anyone who has ever bought a new car leeched out at us, and we both sniffed it in all its glory. Who knew how long it might be before cars would be made again. Mohammad then slid into the car and sat behind the steering wheel. My match died, but enough light was coming through the door for us to faintly see around, as our eyes had finally adjusted. It was just as well, since the faded light helped us both reimagine driving this beast of a car and cruising through a country road at high speed.              

For a moment, the present world was gone and the best the old world had to offer felt as real and present as it ever had. Sitting on a $400,000 car made us both feel like big shots. Mohammad and I chatted awhile and started to connect. He revealed to me that Chumi is two months pregnant and wondered what kind of world he would be bringing his first child into.

              A short while later, we made our way back outside and inspected the other box car. Just as expected, it too held several expensive cars. Their new owners would probably never see their expensive toys and these pinnacles of mechanical engineering would never roar to life. Looking around us, there was still silence and no sign of any person. We made our way into the woods and began the half mile trek back toward our neighborhood.
All in all, this was a great sweep,
I thought. We had some fun with the cars, but more importantly, we had fresh signs of hope, and a vital need would be met going forward.
Maybe we could do this after all
, I allowed myself to believe.

              It was then that a single gunshot was heard ahead.
BOOM.
It echoed throughout the leafless woods and into the distance. Both Mohammad and I looked at each other and froze. With no idea of what happened but both exchanging a look of seriousness and concern, we started walking at a pace that could almost be a jog. We had to get back and fast. We were hightailing it.

****************************************

              We were running at a dangerous pace. The ground was uneven and covered with wet, slippery leaves. Small branches we never saw broke and popped against us as we ran through them. Both of us were breathing heavily and had a vague sense of awareness that the other was near. Mohammad slipped on a muddy spot, and his knee plunged into the mud. With a slight turn of my head, I saw him already getting back up and continuing forward. He was now twenty feet behind me. More and more quickly, I ran. A wolf closing on a fresh kill would have been indistinguishable from how I felt at this moment. Stacy, Paul, and little Tabs were back in the neighborhood. With every step, I ran faster and faster. The neighborhood was now in view three hundred feet in front of me through the woods.

             
BOOM BOOM BOOM,
I heard. Were they gunshots or just my heart’s beating? It was impossible to tell. Mohammad was yelling something behind me, but onward I pushed. Two hundred feet. I was almost there. A few people were outside ahead talking. They looked distressed but I couldn’t hear them.
BOOM BOOM BOOM
. It was my heart’s pounding again. One hundred feet to get out of the woods. The group was just ahead. Full speed ahead and I could focus on nothing but moving. There were five people ahead in the group, and they now heard me and were looking my direction. Out of the woods, I shot like a bat out of hell.

              I made it to the group and collapsed to the ground. I tried to speak and ask them what had happened, but nothing could come. My breath was gone, and I struggled to get it back.

              “Slow down there, man,” said one of the neighbors I didn’t know. “You okay? I remember you from the meeting a couple of days ago. What are you running from?”

              Just then, we all turned as Mohammad broke through some large twigs to emerge from the forest. His whole front side was covered with mud. I guess his fall was worse than I had realized. He too was out of breath and collapsed beside me. Both our guns now lay on the ground but amazingly, nobody seemed disturbed by our charging in with guns.

              One of the ladies then put her hand on my shoulder as I looked back at the ground and continued my struggle to regain control of my breathing. “It’s okay, Josh. Just relax a minute. Everything is all right.” It was a voice I knew and recognized.

              As I looked up, I noticed the dark skin of her legs before finally gazing directly up and straight into the sun. She moved to her side a foot and then blocked out the sun’s light. It was Puba. Maybe she had been out bartering with these people for more food as she had done with Stacy. She must have told them she knew me as I emerged from the forest, and that’s why they didn’t panic at the sight of a charging, armed man with a determined look on his face.

              “Puba . . . “ I barely got it out as I continued to breathe hard. “What . . .” I paused. “What happened?” Two more quick breaths and I barely got it out. “A gunshot?”

              Mohammad was trying to add to what I had said but only a mumbled noise came forth. He too was long removed from his more athletic youth.

              A man I didn’t know in a tight, bright yellow shirt and matching shoes reached his hand down and helped me up. “Josh, I take it? I’m Roald. Just get your breath and relax. I’ll explain what happened.”

              A simple nod came back from me.

              Roald had plenty of product in his hair and may even have been wearing make-up. His smile was warm and inviting. “We sort of met at the meeting . . . in passing. Again, I’m Roald and live in that house over there.” He pointed down the street to what was an unassuming townhouse except for the over landscaped front yard filled with colorful pansies. “This here is my husband, Rick.”

              Another man in a bright pink shirt with matching shoes stepped forward and shook my hand. He too sported a similar made-up look with a hairstyle best described as something so trendy it had only been seen in New York and few other places but would have been mainstream soon. “Nice to meet you, Josh.”

              Roald had a firm shake, but Rick gave me the limp fish. Another man who had just been there was already walking over to a nearby house. Roald was now helping Mohammad to his feet, and the look of unease on Mohammad’s face couldn’t be hidden. Despite his attempts at courtesy, it was probably somewhere in his mind that these two men would probably be executed in his home country for their lifestyles. Lucky for all, we were in America . . . or at least the vestiges of it, as things were falling apart.

              Finally, despite still breathing hard, I was composed and able to muster enough air in my lungs to put together more than two broken words. “What was the gunshot? Is everybody okay?”

              Puba had taken a few steps back and was slipping into her usual observant self. Roald spoke, “We heard it too, and that’s why we all came out here. It originated from inside a house close by. I’m pretty sure it was that one on the end. I was outside sweeping the sidewalk and heard it. It made me jump!” he said as his voice’s pitch rose a notch higher.

              Then Rick chimed in, “And I was so worried about him.” He put his hand on his chest and looked at the sky. “My poor hubby is not a fighter. I was like, if anybody is messing with him, I have to protect him, right? That’s why I ran outside so fast.” His pace of speech was escalating quickly. They may have played calm on the outside, but they were just as antsy as us.

              “Oh Ricky,” Roald said. He then looked at each of us. “He just thinks he is a tough guy. I’ll show him later.” Their eyes met, and they shared a moment of excitement and anticipation of their late-night activities. Mohammad had moved more closely to Puba, I noticed.