Collision Course (19 page)

“Please stay,” she blurted. “I don't know what Nancy and I would do without you. I heard those women talking in the line about what's happening in the bigger cities. If the gangs get out here in force, well . . .” Her voice trailed off.

“I can stay, but we're going to have to get a few things straight if I do.”

“Whatever you say, DJ.”

“We'll talk about that when we get back to the house,” he said.

CHAPTER 21

G
abe walked the boy home in silence and then drove his truck back to his trailer. The ugly patch on the door made him feel even worse. Damn them, he thought as he walked around to the back, not sure which “them” he really meant. There, next to the back steps, sat the broken tiller. Its bent handles and badly scuffed engine taunted him.

He opened the door and headed straight for his bedroom. Removing one of the precious bottles from the bottom drawer, he took it to the kitchen. Gabe poured a glass of the sweet poison so expertly that not a drop was wasted. He took the glass and the bottle and walked to his favorite chair. He plopped down and stared at the liquid gold, rolling the glass between his fingers and thumb.

This wasn't his fault. It wasn't like the accident. They wanted things from him. He wasn't sure what or why, but they did. He had enough to deal with without them. Didn't they know that? Maybe they did, and they didn't care, or maybe they were just too wrapped up in their own needs to know what he needed. Well, right now he needed a drink.

The glass was almost to his lips when the sound of knuckles rapping on his door reached his ears. He lowered the glass and bent his neck around toward the door. Maybe he should ignore it. Maybe it would go away. No, there it was again, longer and louder than last time. They wouldn't go away. He'd have to get rid of them.

He set the glass next to the bottle and wearily rose from the chair. The walk to the back door seemed as if it were a trek of a thousand miles. He opened the door, and there she stood.

“What?” he asked.

“Are you drinking?”

“I would be if you'd just leave me the hell alone.”

Jane pushed past him. He knew he shouldn't let her in, but he was too tired to stop her. It would be twice as hard to get rid of her now. She saw the whiskey on the coffee table and looked at him.

“You know you can't drink. We've got the meeting down at the church in a couple of hours.”

“I'm not going,” he said. “I did my part. I passed out the flyers. Now, just leave me alone and let me do what I do best.”

“The hell I will,” she said. Jane walked over to the table and took the top off the bottle. Then she picked up the glass and clumsily poured the whiskey back into the bottle, spilling almost half of it. Each drop that hit the table ripped a section of Gabe's guts out. “If this wasn't so valuable, I'd pour it down the drain,” she said.

That was all that Gabe could take. “Get the fuck out!” he screamed. “Get the fuck out and don't ever come back!”

Her stare burned a hole in him, and her hands rapidly opened and clenched. He felt a little uncomfortable with her being so angry with him, but he told himself he didn't care. She took a couple of steps in his direction, and he thought she was going to hit him. He wished she would, and he hoped the woman really knew how to punch. He didn't need some halfhearted, open-handed, sissy slap right now. Jane closed to striking range, and he prepared himself for the wonderful pain.

Her hands moved so quickly that it surprised him even though he was waiting. There was pain, but it wasn't at all what he'd been expecting. Her arms were wrapped around him, and her lips were pressed so hard against his face that they mashed his lips onto his teeth. He didn't know what to do. As hard as she was kissing him, he noticed that her body seemed to melt into his. He hadn't felt anything like this in a long, long time. His body reacted against his will. What was she doing? Without thinking, he found his arms circling around her and noticed he was kissing her, too. What was
he
doing?

His hands found her shoulders, and he pushed her away. “What are you doing?” he demanded.

“I'm just trying to show you that people care about you, you big, stupid son of a bitch. We need you, Gabe, and, believe it or not, you need us, too.”

* * *

“Rule number one . . . I make all the security decisions. If we have to defend ourselves or our property, I don't need you second-guessing me,” DJ said.

“All right,” Crystal said quietly.

“Next, we keep up the charade that I'm your cousin. We don't tell the neighbors anything that we don't discuss first.”

She nodded.

“Here's the last thing. If Roger isn't back in a week, then we have to assume he's not coming. You have to accept that, and we'll figure out what's best for you and Nancy from there.”

A tear formed in her eye. “What do you mean by that?”

What he really meant was what was best for him, but he couldn't tell her that. “I mean we need to figure out how to keep you two safe. Maybe it means I stay until this thing blows over. Maybe it means we need to try to find somewhere for you to stay, or maybe you end up going with me, but we'll worry about that in a week. Right now we just hope Roger shows up, all right?”

“Okay,” she said with a sniffle. “I really appreciate your staying, DJ. I don't know how to thank you enough.”

I know,
he thought.

* * *

They spent several minutes making out like a couple of teenagers. Gabe felt impulses and sensations he thought had died with Hannah. What was he doing? He couldn't do this. He was still in love with his wife. He brought his hands up to Jane's shoulders and, this time, gently pushed her back. She looked into his eyes.

“What's wrong, Gabe?”

“I don't know,” he stammered. “I'm just not ready for this.”

“Something is telling me you are,” she said with a smile.

He'd never noticed how beautiful she was, not like some runway model, but a deep inner beauty that manifested itself through her whole being. Her eyes were warm and inviting. The little laugh lines around the edges only made them prettier. Her laugh was infectious, and all of Gabe's troubles seemed to drown in the sound. Her body was firm and muscular from work, but it melted like hot butter in his arms. He was lost for a second just staring at her.

He shook his head quickly as if he were trying to clear the cobwebs out after a blindsiding sucker punch. “No, I mean, uh, it's just been a long time.”

“I understand,” she whispered. She rocked up on her toes and gave him a quick peck on the lips. “I'll see you at the church in a couple of hours.”

Gabe stood there like a statue. He watched her leave, and even though he desperately wanted to tell her to stay, he couldn't get his mouth to move. When the door closed behind her, he wished it would reopen and she'd come back. Then he prayed she wouldn't. He stared at the portal as if his life hung in the balance. He realized that his fingers were touching his lips where hers had been only seconds before. He could taste the sweetness and feel the warmth. He felt something, something he hadn't felt in a long time. He felt alive.

* * *

DJ sat in the comfortable chair and watched Crystal put the groceries away. The kid was coloring at the table and humming softly, as she often did. Sunlight streamed through the window and made the room just a little warm. His eyes began to get heavy as he contemplated his options. Maybe he should just stay here. The chances of Roger showing up were slim, and sooner or later Crystal would come to grips with it. DJ had often wondered what it would be like to have a family. He figured it would be nice. And why leave? Yeah, there was lots of stuff buried at his bug-out location, but what else was waiting for him there? At best, nothing, and at worst, well, he didn't want to think about that. No, he could get real comfortable here.

A voice brought him back from the edge of slumber. “What would you like for dinner, DJ?”

“I don't know,” he answered, truthfully for a change. “I'm sure whatever you fix will be delicious.”

* * *

Gabe was at the church before anyone else. He opened the windows and propped open the door to get some airflow through the small sanctuary. Then he stood on the landing in front of the main doors to wait. A few minutes later, the Blakes showed up. Gabe remembered that they were the ones with beef for trade. He shook their hands and exchanged pleasantries until another couple with two small children walked up. He introduced himself.

“So you are Gabriel Horne,” the man said as he shook Gabe's hand. “My name's Jerry Strickland. This is my wife, Deb, and our two kids, Gary and Hope.”

“Pleasure to meet you,” Gabe said. “Ma'am.”

The Stricklands made their way into the church, and Gabe looked back toward the road. It seemed as if everyone was coming at once. Almost everyone was walking, although some were on bicycles and a few others were driving their vehicles. Many were pulling wagons loaded with children or pushing strollers. Clearly word about the meeting had spread. He wondered where they had all come from and if they'd all fit in the little church.

Gabe saw her in the crowd. She was walking beside Robby, the limp barely noticeable, and talking with Harold and Amanda. Jane's beauty struck him again. His fingers absentmindedly touched his lips before he realized what he was doing. He forced his hand back down to his side, but the thought of her kiss stirred something inside him.

* * *

Gabe followed Jane into the church and sat beside her on the third pew from the front. After a few minutes, the chatter quieted and there was an uneasy silence. Jane poked an elbow into Gabe's ribs. He looked at her with wide eyes and shook his head almost imperceptibly.

She leaned over and whispered, “Just go up and welcome everyone, then get the discussion going. That's all you have to do. Things will go on their own from there.”

Gabe stared at her in disbelief, but something compelled him to stand up anyway. As he walked to the podium, it was dead quiet.

He turned and faced the assembly. He'd never spoken to so many people before. His hands reached out and grabbed the lectern tightly. His throat was the Sahara.

“Uh, we want to welcome everyone to the meeting,” he said slowly. “It's good to see you all. I guess we have a lot to discuss. Who wants to get us started?”

The silence seemed as if it would go on forever. Finally someone in the back spoke up. “How are we going to make sure we don't have any more attacks like what happened to Mrs. Walker, or any more thefts? I lost almost five gallons of gas out of my barn two nights ago, and I've heard about others losing things, too.”

A murmur of approval for the first question seemed to quickly emanate from the whole room. Then it was quiet again, and all eyes were on Gabe. He felt the weight pushing down on him.

Do I look like the Shell Answer Man to you?
he wanted to yell.

“I, uh, really don't know. Other than being a lot more cautious and making sure everything is locked up all the time, does anyone have a suggestion?” he said.

“What about roadblocks? We could let only those who live in the area come through,” a person on the left side said.

“I guess that would be one thing we could do. Does anyone have any experience with that sort of thing?” Gabe prayed that someone would hold up their hand so he could turn the floor over to that person. Everyone just looked around. Gabe wished he could take a little shot, just enough to calm his nerves. “How about law enforcement experience? Anyone been a police officer?” Still no hand was raised. Gabe was scraping the bottom of the barrel now. His hands were clutching the podium tightly to stop them from shaking, but he could feel the tremors begin to move up his arms. Surely several people would have to raise their hand for this one. “Anybody have any military experience?”

Gabe breathed a sigh of relief when three hands went up. He was sure that more than these three had been in the service, but this was enough to get him out of the hot seat. He pointed at the man closest to him. “What did you do in the military?”

“I was a flight mechanic in the air force,” the man said. “If you need an F16 fixed, I'm your man, but I don't know squat about roadblocks.”

“And what about you?” Gabe pointed at the next closest man. He was thin and distinguished looking with short gray hair.

“My name is Paul Lozano, and I was an army captain during Vietnam. I was assigned to the Pentagon as a gofer for most of my career, though. I don't have much field experience.”

“You must have had some training in officers' school, right?” Gabe was almost pleading.

“Yes, but that was a long time ago, Mr. Horne. Surely someone has more recent combat experience.”

“All right, Paul, thanks. How about you? Do you have any combat experience?” Gabe pointed at a middle-aged man in the back.

“I have a lot of combat experience, but I don't think it's going to help. I was a navy corpsman assigned to the marines during Desert Storm. All my training has to do with patching holes in people and treating heat exhaustion.”

“Well,” Gabe said, “let's hope we don't need your expertise, although it's good to know you're around, Mr.?”

“Easton,” the man said.

“I guess you're our ranking military man, Captain. Would you care to come up and give us some ideas of what we can do?”

Gabe had already taken half a step away from the podium when Captain Lozano started to speak. “I'd be happy to meet with the other vets and brainstorm with them about this. We could try to have some suggestions for your next meeting. How would that be?”

Gabe froze in his tracks. This wasn't his meeting; he'd just come up to get the ball rolling as Jane had said. Someone else needed to take over. He returned to the lectern. “It's not up to me,” he said. “Would that be all right with everyone?”

A chorus of affirmative answers rang out.

“Good. Now, does anyone else have anything they'd like to come up and discuss with everyone?”

“What about bartering like your flyer said, Mr. Horne?” It was Mr. Blake, the man who wanted to trade beef. “Do you think you could make that happen?”

Gabe had had enough. He wanted to lash out, but at the last second, he saw Jane's face. It stopped him. She gave him a little nod of encouragement, so he took a deep breath and controlled his frustration.