Walking in the Rain: Surviving the Fall (2 page)

CHAPTER TWO

Mindful of Amy’s lack of proper clothing and footwear, I stopped after only a thousand yards and found us a spot near a small stream.  I’d scouted this area earlier in the day before committing to the house, so I knew the sheltered patch was screened by trees and a mass of bushes that would conceal us once we were inside.  I probably should have picked this spot to spend the night, in hindsight, but I just wanted one night without having to wrestle with the tarp or endure dripping rain.

“In there?” Amy croaked.

“Sure, kid.  This will be fine for a few hours.  Let me go in first but follow me, okay?”

As before, the cozy little hideaway was unoccupied by anything bigger than field mice, which got me thinking about what all I still needed to do.  Shucking my pack, I fished out a handful of wire loop traps and stuffed them in my jacket pocket.  Even in the little bit of moonlight penetrating our new lair, I saw the question on Amy’s face.

“Let me go see about breakfast and I’ll be right back to help you get situated.”

Without giving the girl time to protest, I slipped back out and quickly found sign of four nearby rabbit runs.  The hunters may have claimed all the big game in these woods but the rabbits and squirrels still found ways to survive.  Carefully placing my homemade wire loop traps, I hoped to be able to snare a few by morning.  Maybe, maybe not, depending on circumstances beyond my control.  Life was like that now, and the quicker a person figured this out, the better their chances of surviving.

“How are your feet?” I asked, once I returned to take a seat across from Amy.

“Okay, but my heels feel a little blistered.  I really need some socks, I guess.  I wish we could go back to my uncle’s house, but that will be the first place those looting bastards will look.”

“That’s true.  I have some socks you can use.  So, how many other guys in that group of scavengers?”

“There’s, like, seven or eight of them living in two houses up the street.  I heard they came out of Branson, and one morning they just took over the neighborhood.  Killed some of the men, and you can guess what they did to the women.  The rest will come looking.”

“We should be safe here for the next few hours.  Try to get some sleep.  I’ll keep watch since I already got like six or seven hours downtime before this happened.  Alright?”

I heard leaves rustling as Amy tried to get comfortable.  I thought about her trying to sleep with only the sweat shirt to wear and detached my rolled up tarp from the back of my pack and pushed it in her direction.

“Wrap up in this for now.  That will help keep you warm and dry.”

“What are you going to do, Luke?”

“Like I said, I’ll keep watch.  Don’t need it right now.  You just try to rest.  We’ll need to move out of here quick before first light.”

With a mumbled okay, Amy rolled herself up in the scavenged plastic cover and nestled down in the leaves.  I listened to her breathing even out after a while and her sleep seemed untroubled.  I wondered about that.  She never mentioned her parents, and her home with her uncle now seemed lost to her.  What is a little girl supposed to do in this situation?  How can she even sleep right now, lying in the bushes with a complete stranger who less than an hour ago murdered three men in front of her?

Those thoughts led to home, and how these events might impact my traveling.  I kept coming back to why I felt the need to interfere.  I wasn’t particularly brave, nor did I think I was somehow invincible.  These last two months taught me all I needed to know about how fragile life, my life, could be when the rule of law no longer existed.

I rarely acted on instinct.  In fact, my father more than once told me I tended to overanalyze things.  So why did I agree to let this unknown girl come with me?  I’d helped people out in the past, what little I could and without endangering myself too much, but never invited someone to travel with me.  And why her?  Despite her claims, I knew she would be a burden.  She did not appear capable of defending herself, and a second mouth to feed would certainly drain my resources.

I didn’t reach any conclusions that night.  Maybe it was because somehow she reminded me of my little sister.  Not in her looks, but that she was sort of small and weak.  Amy was actually about five foot six or so, but painfully thin.  Gaunt, really.  In comparison, I stood nearly six three already and before the lights went out I was well muscled from working on the farm and spending time in the weight room.  I’d dropped some pounds of course, but my height made me loom over the girl anyway.

On the other hand, this could have been something due to delayed guilt for all the innocent people I saw and couldn’t help.  Or perhaps, my subconscious was telling me I was getting weird without sufficient human contact.  One thing I did conclude was after two months of being on my own, I was really lonely.

These thoughts got my memories of walking out of that dark, stinking pile of concrete and glass as I left behind the hotel to start this journey.  I remembered those first few frantic hours of trying to navigate unfamiliar streets while the world had fallen apart.  A week into the blackout and as I passed piles of corpses stacked in the streets I kept muttering “Too late, too late” under my breath.  That prick Mr. Selzer made me wait almost too long to begin my escape from the city.  Idly, I wondered if the blind sheep was still huddled there in his room on the eighth floor, waiting for the government to come save him. 

As the first tentative rays of the sun began to lighten the sky, still shy of dawn, I roused from my hard thoughts and set about checking what I’d gleaned from yesterday’s salvage.  First, though, I needed to get my backpack squared away for this day’s journey.  Extra space in the big backpack was available.  I just had to fold up the shirts and pants I stuffed in haphazardly the night before.  I also drug out two pairs of rolled up white athletic socks that would go to Amy.  Another loan, not a gift.  She would have to do her own salvaging.  She needed better footwear but the thick socks would help short term.  While I was at it, I withdrew a pair of gray sweat pants for the girl to cover herself with, noting that the drawstrings remained in place. 

The three handguns from the looters garnered a quick looksee and the prize of the trio was a Glock 21 with three spare magazines.  Score one for the good guys, I thought.  I set the pistol aside until later for examination, along with the two revolvers.  They would need a cleaning and a takedown before I would trust my life to them.  I knew the Ruger would work until then.

Once my own backpack was situated, I began going through the smaller packs the dead men had been carrying.  Candles, lighters, small trinkets and useless rolls of cash confirmed these bags contained salvage.  I decided as each man gleaned items from the neighborhood, they stowed their treasures in these bags to prevent their fellows from stealing them.  I also found a few cans of food, a five pound bag of rice, and packets of tea and sugar.  In the bottom of one pack, I found a small bundle of greenish leaves, either oregano or marijuana, I deduced.  Either way, I placed it in the keeper pile for now.  

  The bags also contained a few boxes of ammunition, but sadly, no 9mm.  One nearly full fifty round box of 45 ACP, two fifty round boxes of 38 Special, and a twenty five round box of #4 buckshot in 12 gauge.  Each bag also held a handful of loose rounds in the bottom.  I did not take time to sort them.  Instead they were added to a plastic bag I kept in one of the side pockets of my backpack.  That was my odds and ends ammo collection.  Even ammo for guns I didn’t have held some trade value.  Just as long as the person I traded it to didn’t decide to use it on me.

Once I was done with the rough sorting, I set aside the largest and nicest of the bags and the only real backpack in the bunch.  It was a black nylon North Face model with padded shoulder straps and a waist cinch, and I filled it with the “keeper” materials for hauling.  That would be Amy’s bag, and I made sure to include another pair of socks and some rags to stuff into the oversized boots.  They might look like clown shoes, but I was betting she would wear them.  Going barefoot was not an alternative.

I spent the next few minutes with an improvised cleaning kit going over the captured weapons as the light grew stronger in our little hide.   For bandits and would-be rapists, the men I’d killed took very poor care of the tools of their trade. 

I wanted to get moving before dawn but I decided Amy could use a few more minutes of sleep.  When she finally opened her eyes, I saw confusion and fear warring on her expression as she took in her surroundings.  Then those bright blue eyes caught mine, and she gave a little smile.  No figuring girls, I thought as I tossed her the sweat pants and the socks.  She caught the items of clothing and gave me a curious look.

“Go ahead and put those on.  Roll up the legs on those sweats and cinch up the waist as best you can.  Otherwise your butt is going to be hanging out,” I said by way of explanation.

Amy looked at me with her head cocked to the right.  In a second I could tell from her blush she remembered she was naked under the sweat shirt.  She was covered to mid-thigh for the moment but that wouldn’t do for any traveling.  As the girl tried to figure out how to get the sweat pants on without exposing herself, I rose to a crouch and began easing myself out of the sheltered spot.

“Luke, where are you going?”

“Giving you a little privacy, and checking on breakfast.”  I didn’t look back as I left.  I felt a little uneasy leaving my gear and most of my newly acquired weapons with a near total stranger, but either she would work out or she wouldn’t.  Anyway, I had a good feeling about the girl.  

Fifteen minutes later I was back in the little sheltered spot with a pair of rabbits tied to my belt and several thin metal cables rolled up to be returned to my pack.  These rabbits might be kind of small, but I figured Amy would appreciate the fresh meat.  Trying not to make it obvious, I noted the sweat pants fit, sort of, with the cuffs rolled up so the excess fabric did not drag the ground and the waist cinched in tight. 

“I can build a fire if you want,” Amy volunteered, eyeing the rabbits.  A smile tugged at her lips, making me wonder how long it had been since that particular expression had crossed her pale features. 

“Sure thing, but let’s get moving first.  We can stop in a little bit, cook these rabbits, and take a little time for ourselves.  Maybe see if we can find you some better shoes, too.”

Amy nodded her agreement and helped me finish picking up our little camp, which at this stage really just meant rolling up the blankets and my tarp.  Once these items were secured, I eased out through the interlocking tree limbs and waited for the girl to follow.  She seemed to be having some difficulty getting her pack to settle right but I knew she would eventually get used to the weight.  I did.

“Where are we going?”  Amy asked, still carefully picking her words. 

“We’ll follow this stream for a few miles then stop for a fire and roast these rabbits.  In the meantime, have some of these,” I said, and handed her a small can that used to contain baking soda.

They were wild blueberries.  I picked them this morning and though not as sweet as store bought, Amy didn’t seem to mind and ate half the can while we walked for the next hour.  Our path paralleled a small stream that ran south and west, headed in my direction and the going was tough as the hills began to grow again.  According to my map, we were nearly into Arkansas.

As if she could read my mind, Amy finally spoke.

“Where are we headed?  I mean, do you have some place to go?”

Again, I could tell she was trying to choose her words with care and I realized she was trying to avoid provoking an angry response from me.  She was rightfully curious, but had been so conditioned to tread lightly that I had to wonder.  How bad had her life been before I found her? This seemed more than one scary night’s worth of caution, but what the heck did I know.

“Yeah, Amy, I’ve got a destination, and so do you if you decide to keep traveling with me.  And you can always ask me questions, okay?  I may not be able to answer you at the moment, but I will not ignore you.  Or punish you.”

After she gave me a small nod and a wary smile, I continued.  Other than glancing over for a flash, I kept my eyes on the woods around us as I spoke.

“I’m headed home, eventually.  Northeast Texas.  My family has a farm outside a little town named Ripley.  Ever heard of it?”

She shook her head so I continued.

“Its south of Tyler, close to Nacogdoches.”

“Oh, Nacogdoches.  That’s SFA, right?”

“Yeah,” I answered with a laugh. 

With a reputation as a party school, Stephen F. Austin State University had name recognition well beyond its fifteen thousand student enrollment.  Growing up twenty miles away, I had gotten accustomed to some of the nicer things the school had to offer, like being able attend plays and visit an actual science lab that didn’t look like something out of Dr. Frankenstein’s basement.  Being able to check out college girls didn’t hurt either.

“That’s a long ways.  I think.”

“Well, I started in Chicago, so I’m more than half way there by my calculations.”