Authors: Jerry D. Young
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
It wasn’t until he got to the suburbs that Charlie saw any activity. What he did see was people all heading in one direction. He followed along slowly, keeping his distance from everyone. Part of the way was uphill and he was very tired when he came to what had to be a government camp.
Charlie pulled out of the way and thought about things for a long time. He really didn’t like the idea of being in a camp, but they should have food and a safe place to sleep. Probably medical care. He must have stayed in the shelter long enough, since there were people here in the open. Still, he hesitated.
He noticed that people with transportation, the occasional motorized vehicle, several bicycles, and even one horse, were all going to one area and leaving their vehicles. There were also people coming back and getting the vehicles and leaving. That convinced him.
Showing the state photo ID when asked, Charlie asked several times if he would be able to get his belongings back and was assured patiently each time that he would. He went through the registration process FEMA had in place, and then sat down to a hot, filling meal.
Charlie got a change of clothes, since they were offered, and three days worth of food. “That wasn’t so bad,” Charlie said softly, as he pedaled away. Though told it was safe to be out of shelter now, if he hadn’t received much radiation exposure, Charlie thought that since he had received enough to make him sick he should stay in shelter all he could.
But it was a long ways from the construction site to the FEMA camp. Charlie decided to try to find an abandoned house with a basement he could stay in until he decided what to do. He’d been told it was going to be a terrible winter. Deciding that a ritzy place was as good as a hovel, if it was abandoned, he headed for the upscale part of this suburban area.
He almost went past the house, but he saw the front door open and decided to investigate. The place certainly looked ritzy enough. Charlie looked around carefully, and then quickly pedaled the bike to the side of the house. He hid the bike and trailer near the back corner of the house, behind some landscaping bushes.
Taking his closet pole, minus the chains and buckets, Charlie waited a few minutes, then quickly went inside the house and closed the front door. “Hello!” he called, not yelling, but not so soft that it couldn’t be heard.
It took a couple of hours to search the place. It was fancy, all right. And it did have a basement. There was even some food in the pantry. Fancy food. The food in the fridge and freezer was all bad. He found a few tools in the garage. Taking a shovel, he buried the stinking mess in the side yard.
When he went out into the backyard he noticed two big plastic looking disks some distance from the house, and a nice bird fountain with gazing ball, but didn’t think much about them.
He’d tried a faucet. No water pressure, he noted, but remembered from the articles in the paper that there might be some in the hot water heater. He’d get to that later. He waited around until dark, to see if anyone showed up. When they didn’t he brought his things inside the house. He brought the bike inside, but didn’t want to open the garage door manually to move the trailer in. He left it hidden behind the bushes.
Charlie didn’t fill the buckets very full, but he used the shovel to dig a pretty good size hole in the back yard, near the fence line, and put the dirt into several buckets. He would use it to cover the waste in the toilet bucket, and then bury the accumulation in the hole.
He was feeling the strain by the time he had the last two buckets in the basement. It had been a long day for him. The basement was semi-finished and included a family/game room, as well as a bedroom.
Sleeping in a real bed helped Charlie. He woke up refreshed. After he ate, he stashed some of his belongings in several places outside the house, and then hooked the trailer back to the bike and set off. Apparently water wasn’t a problem at the camp. They let him fill all six of the buckets he had on the trailer.
Charlie took a rest after taking each of the buckets into the house. That was his drinking water. Water from the pool in the backyard would do for sanitation and bathing. The rest of the day he spent resting, inventorying items in the house and garage of use to him, and making plans.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Angela hadn’t told Emily about the man staying in the house for the last three weeks. She’d seen him on the camera system in the back yard occasionally, digging and filling holes. He would also get water from the swimming pool with a pair of buckets on a pole. He seemed harmless, moving slowly, as if he were weak. Of course, he was out in radiation of over a Röentgen. He must be staying in the basement, for shelter, Angela had decided. She wondered what had brought him to that specific house.
Despite the man being there, they needed to get out of the shelter and take a look around. The information on the radio indicated FEMA and the National Guard had a camp nearby where they could get help and find out more about what was going on. They still had plenty of supplies, but the reports of a bad winter coming had Angela worried. And Emily was next to useless when it came to decisions.
Emily was content to let Angela call the shots. She made no protest when Angela strapped on the holster and 1911A1 pistol that had been in her fanny pack, and slung the Benelli over one shoulder, a bandoleer of shells over the other, and began climbing the ladder up to the shelter hatch. She’d checked the camera. The area was clear at the moment.
When she had the hatch un-dogged, she quickly opened it and clambered out, closing the hatch behind her. Angela ran over to the side of the house and looked around the corner, bringing the Benelli around off the sling and to the ready.
After checking the other side of the house, she tried the back door. It was locked. Angela had taken the precaution of getting Emily’s keys from her before she left the shelter. Quietly she unlocked the door and went inside.
Things were in better shape than she expected. There was no sign of any ransacking. Deciding to leave the basement for last, she checked the rest of the house. It was obvious that some things had been disturbed, but there was no wanton destruction.
Finally, Angela tried the basement door. It didn’t have a lock, but when she opened it the door knocked something down the stairs that made a loud clattering noise.
The noise from the early warning system woke Charlie up. He’d been taking a nap, one of several he took every day. He was regaining his strength, but it was coming slowly. He had to work at the camp for a couple of hours now, each time he went in to get food or water and he was tired much of the time.
He lay there quietly, not moving, in the darkness of the basement bedroom as he heard footsteps on the stairs after several long moments. Afraid he might get shot if the person or persons coming down the stairs were armed, and he startled them, Charlie finally decided to call out. They’d find him anyways. Perhaps he could talk his way out of this. He got up and went to the open door of the bedroom.
“Hello! What do you want?”
Angela stopped her descent. He was in the room that opened off the family/game room. “I want to know who you are and what you are doing here.”
“Just crashing,” Charlie replied. “Look. I’ll get my things and go. I thought the place was abandoned. I don’t want any trouble. I’ll just go.”
“Where is that big stick you carry?”
Charlie was surprised. “How’d you know about that?” he asked, but quickly answered anyway. “There by the sofa.”
“Okay,” Angela said. “Come out where I can see you. I have a shotgun. I’ll use it if you try anything.” There was enough light from the basement windows, set high in the basement walls to see adequately.
Charlie stepped out, his hands at shoulder level. “Don’t shoot me. I’ll be out of here so fast you’ll never even know I was here. Can I take my stuff with me?”
When Angela saw Charlie she came down the last three stairs. “Is there anyone else here? And don’t lie to me. I’ve been watching the place for some time.”
“Just me. Honest.”
Keeping the Benelli at waist level, but trained on the man, Angela took a quick look around. It was obvious the man was living in the basement. But he was living neatly. Still no signs of wanton destruction. “What’s your name?”
“Charlie. Charlie Grayson.”
“If you want to get out of this alive, Charlie, you’d better tell me the truth. Do you have a weapon?”
“Closest thing is the closet pole there.” Charlie was keeping his hands up. He took a step forward and added, “Please. Just let me leave. I’m not out to hurt anybody. I just wanted a safe place to stay until I can head south. I have radiation sickness.” Realizing that the woman might think it contagious he quickly continued. “But it isn’t catching or anything.”
Angela frowned. “I know that. How bad is it?” She kept the shotgun trained on him and made a small motion for him to stop moving. He did.
“Not too bad, but I’m not up to a long trip. FEMA says the winter is going to be tough. I aim to put together some supplies and go south. FEMA is handing out a little food for work.”
“Yeah. I heard that on the radio.” Angela shifted the gun slightly, raising the end of the barrel enough for it to point over Charlie’s head. But ready to drop it again and fire if needed.
“You have a car or something? And fuel?”
Charlie shook his head. “No. Bicycle and trailer. Fuel is hard to get. There’s people scavenging, though they aren’t supposed to. You can buy it if you have whiskey, food, guns and ammo, or silver and gold. If you don’t get caught.”
“So there is trading going on,” Angela said. She brought the shotgun barrel down and tucked the stock under her arm. “You can put your hands down. But don’t try anything.”
“I won’t,” Charlie replied. “Yeah. You can trade. A lot of people are. There is a lot of scavenging, despite the National Guard patrols. They aren’t pushing it too hard as long as it doesn’t get too flagrant. Or violent. They’re really cracking down on violence.”
“What are they doing to gun owners?”
Charlie shook his head again. “Nothing if you don’t use it first. A lot of people go armed. Me, I just have my closet rod handy.”
Angela started visibly when Emily called down from the top of the stairs. “Angela, are you okay down there?”
Looking up the stairs, Angela saw Emily standing in the doorway, John on one side, and Catherine on the other.
“Jeez, Emily!” Angela called up. “You scared me half to death! And I could have shot you. What are you doing out of the shelter?”
“Well, the kids wanted out and you’ve been gone a while and I wanted to see what was going on and… I know you told us to stay, but it’s been such a long time and you were out… and I was afraid you might just take off… and… I don’t know. I’m sorry!” Emily was starting to cry.
“Okay, Emily. It’s okay.”
“Someone has been here, haven’t they?” Emily asked.
“Yeah. A man named Charlie. He’s here now. He’s been living in your basement for three weeks.”
Again Charlie was surprised at her knowing that detail. She must have been watching from the start. That was creepy.
“Is he dangerous?”
“I’m not. Really,” Charlie said quietly.
Angela frowned. “I don’t think so, but we can’t take any chances,” she told Emily. To Charlie she said, “I’m going to let you go, with your stuff. But don’t try anything.”
“Thank you,” Charlie replied, relieved. “I won’t try anything. It’ll take me a little while to move everything.”
“I understand. Make sure it’s far away.”
Charlie’s face fell. “I was just going to move to the next house,” he said, the disappointment obvious in his voice. “I can’t afford to get too far from the FEMA camp.”
“Oh,” Angela said. “But how do I know I can trust you not to try something?”
With a shake of his head, Charlie sadly replied. “I guess you can’t, can you? Can I have a couple of days to move everything? I’ll do it whenever you say.”
Angela groaned when Emily called down, “Why can’t he stay here, Angela? We’re staying in the shelter. He can’t do anything to us there.”
“Emily!” Angela barked. Under her breath she muttered, “Tell all our secrets, why don’t you.”
It hit Charlie then. The big disks on the ground in the back yard must be part of an underground shelter. “You must be alone, then,” Charlie said. Before he could continue, Angela spoke.
“What of it? I’ve got the gun. And I will use it.”
“I understand. What I meant was that it’s hard being on your own. I don’t want to stay in the camp, but I’m afraid all the time that someone will catch me off guard and hurt me and take my stuff. Like you could have done, if you wanted to. Maybe I could be of some help to you. I don’t want anything, but you’re going to want to go to the camp and register. You can get food and water there. And information. I can keep an eye on things.”
“Yeah. Like that’s going to happen.” Angela snorted.
Emily had come down the stairs several steps. She bent down and looked at Charlie. “Isn’t that a good idea, Angela? We need to do that. Get registered. I’m sure the government will know what to do. But I don’t like the idea of leaving the place empty.”
Angela just shook her head. After a moment she said, “But we don’t even know him. He could do anything.”
“We have to trust someone,” Emily said quietly. “Has he really done anything to indicate he’s a danger? It doesn’t look like he hurt the house.”
“Well, no, not really. And he’s got radiation sickness.”
With that, Emily backed up the stairs and gathered her children to her. “Maybe it’s not such a good idea, then.”
“Emily, you can’t catch radiation sickness from someone. Not if they’ve been decontaminated.”
Charlie quickly interjected, “I have been. Clothes and all.”
“Oh,” Emily said. “That’s different, then.” Firming up her voice, Emily added, “I’ve let you make the decisions so far, Angela. But I’ve always been one to lend a hand. At least when Edward would let me. Which wasn’t often. He’s obviously a sick, homeless man. And he said he wants to help. We should help him if we can.”
“Things have changed,” Angela protested.
Angela was rather impressed when Emily stood up to her. “I must insist.”
“Well, it is your house and shelter. And I’m not going to give up what you’ve shared with me, unless I have to, so what you say goes.” Angela looked over at Charlie again. “I guess you get to stay.” It was Angela’s turn to harden her voice. “But you try the least little thing and I’ll put you down like a rabid dog.” She was surprised when Emily didn’t protest.
“You aren’t making a mistake,” Charlie said. “Okay. What’s next?”
“I want to see this FEMA camp of yours. Come on upstairs.” Angela stayed cautious, but Charlie followed her up the stairs without any problems. They all took seats around the dining room table. Angela had the Benelli slung over her shoulder, but kept her hand near the Colt 1911.
“I’m reluctant for all of us to go at once,” Angela said, when no one else spoke up. The two children headed up to their rooms to get some toys they’d been deprived of for the last two months.
“Maybe you and Charlie should go so you can check it out while I and the children stay in the shelter.”
Angela was surprised again. It was what she was going to suggest. “Okay. That sounds workable. But you must promise me you will stay in the shelter with the hatch dogged until we get back.”
Emily nodded. “When?”
“I was going in tomorrow for more rations and water,” Charlie offered. Emily and Charlie both looked at Angela.
“Okay, I guess. Charlie and I’ll go in tomorrow.”