The Blackout (15 page)

Molly smiled.  “Yes, Em.  I do think.” 

Molly learned about the goodness of humanity that night.  The attack came swiftly and quietly.  Burt and his family were sleeping, but Jimmy was on duty at the wall and saw some movement.  By the time he tracked the intruders down, they were at Burt’s house, setting it aflame.  They were standing in the shadows when Jimmy and his team tackled them, and a group of neighbors worked to get the small fire out.

Burt burst from his home demanding an explanation.  Jimmy held the leader from behind while he squirmed and thrashed, trying to get free. 

He grasped the man’s face and turned it into the light.  He was bearded, dirty, and wild, but recognizable.  “Craig.” 

The people watching the scene gasped in unison.

“I suppose it was your brood that set the supplies on fire too?” 

He responded by spitting in Burt’s face.  There were four other men being restrained as well, but they weren’t fighting like Craig was. 

Burt sighed.  “This cannot be tolerated.  I sentence all five of you to death.  You will be executed immediately.  Jimmy, lead them to the square.  I’ll be there shortly.” 

Jimmy nodded, while the crowd watched in disbelief.

Death? 
Molly thought.  She ran to Burt as he went back into his house.  “Burt!  Death?  Are you sure about this?”

“Molly, for heaven’s sake, not now.”

“But you have kids, Burt!  Can you really kill five men?” 

He went to his gun cabinet and pulled out a 9mm handgun.  “I can, and will.  Molly, I’m a cop.  I’ve done it before.”  He turned to face her.  “They would’ve killed me and my family today.  And the attacks won’t quit until I stop them.”

Molly knew he was right, but how could he live with himself after killing five people? 

“Maybe you can keep them prisoner and put them to work?  The town can always use laborers.”

He unlocked the cabinet where he kept the ammo.  “The town doesn’t need more mouths to feed, particularly ungrateful ones.”

Molly watched him load the weapon and walk out the front door.  He’d made his decision, and Molly wasn’t sure she wanted to watch him go through with it. 

She went to the porch and saw Jimmy waiting with the prisoners.  He made eye contact with her, but his stare was emotionless.  She lowered her gaze and turned to go back inside. 

Burt’s family sat around their kitchen table, heads bowed, hands held. 
Praying for what?
Molly wondered. 
For the souls of the men their father was about to dispatch?  For their father to have the strength he needs?  For themselves?  For the town? 

She leaned against the doorframe, watching them. 
Who needs it most?

23.

It had been five days since Gary left Williamsburg.  He was on the west side of 664, debating walking over to the Naval Reserve and seeing what was up.  After what happened in D.C., he wasn’t sure of the reception he would receive.  He wasn’t sure it was worth the risk.  He would probably be better off going around it, although he risked missing out on valuable supplies and information.  Decided, he started to pack up when a sound startled him.  He fumbled for the Leatherman.  A group of scruffy men came out of the brush, dangling various weapons from their hands.  One had what looked like a broom handle, one had a hammer, one had a sharpened triangle of metal that might have come off of just about anything.  Only one of them had a genuine weapon, a knife - a fairly large one at that, one you might use to skin a deer. 

Gary held the Leatherman in his left hand loosely, not to be too threatening, but to demonstrate that he wasn’t going down without a fight.  “Can I help you with something, fellas?”

“Looks like you’ve got a pretty nice setup here.”  The man with the knife eyed Gary’s fire, the map spread out next to it, the pack on his back and his coat. 

“Can’t complain.” 

“Maybe you’d like to share with those...” he glanced at the men on either side of him and grinned, “a little less fortunate than you.”  The other men laughed. 

“I don’t have any more food, fellas.  You can check my pack.  I caught the fish I ate this morning in the river.  Sorry.  I don’t have much to share.”  He bent over and picked up the map and began folding it. 

The man with the knife let out a single chuckle.  “You misunderstood what I meant by share.  See, we want what you’ve got.  And we tend to get what we want.” 

They moved in on him slowly from all sides.  Gary could tell they meant to kill him, over a Leatherman, a map, a backpack, and some fishing line.  That was what the value of his life was, apparently. 

He wasn’t going down without a fight. 

It became clear rather quickly that they’d done this before.  They had a system.  Intimidate, frighten, fight, kill.  That was their process.  Frankly, they were doing a good job with it.  Fear threatened to choke Gary as they closed in.  The man with the broom handle held it in his left hand and smacked his right with it.  The man with the sharpened metal smiled menacingly.  The man with the hammer choked up on the handle and narrowed his eyes.  He considered Gary a task that needed doing.  The others enjoyed it. 

They didn’t come at him all at once.  It was a matter of entertainment, not efficiency.  The man with the broom handle went first.  He was strong, but not terribly coordinated.  Gary blocked his attack easily and stabbed him with the knife in the Leatherman.  He recoiled and Gary turned to face the guy with the metal.  Gary didn’t think he could really stab with it.  He’d have to slash, and hit something major, like the neck, to do any real damage.  So, Gary tried to tire him out.  He let the man wave wildly, missing, mostly.  He got Gary once in the arm, and once across the back, but with all the adrenaline pumping, Gary didn’t feel it much. 

After one poorly timed slash, Gary was able to grab the man’s wrist and stab him hard in the stomach.  He wretched much the same way the man with the broom handle had, and slumped away. 

The man with the knife sighed impatiently.  “Enough of this.  Lou, finish up here, would ya?  I have other things to do today.”  A smile crossed his face as he looked at Gary.  “Like fish.” 

Lou circled Gary a bit before he moved in.  Gary was at the disadvantage.  Lou had watched Gary fight the first two; he knew his strengths and weaknesses, knew he was getting tired, that the adrenaline was wearing off.  Gary looked wildly from Lou’s face to his hammer, trying to anticipate what he might do. 

To his credit, he didn’t drag it out.  He circled, and Gary became impatient, so he slashed his knife at the man.  He seized the opportunity and drove his hammer into Gary’s back, knocking him to the ground, but not unconscious.  The backpack offered little protection, as it was mostly empty by that point.  The pain was unimaginable.  It consumed Gary.  He thought he might be sick.

But Lou wasn’t done.  He kicked Gary’s ribs, stomach, and back.  Gary curled into a ball, trying to protect himself, but then Lou turned the hammer on Gary’s legs and arms.  Gary could taste blood before he started to lose consciousness. 

He heard the man with the knife approach.  “Good work, Lou.  Now, let’s see if he was worth all that trouble, hmm?” 

He didn’t hear Lou’s response before he blacked out. 

When Gary woke up it was dark.   He shivered.  He looked down to discover he was naked, save for boxer shorts.  He turned to see where he was, but the pain that resulted consumed him, and he blacked out again.

Eventually, Gary managed to crawl over to an area shaded by bushes.  He was cold, hungry and thirsty.  But he was so immobile he knew there wasn’t much he could do about it. 

What happened?
He wondered before drifting off.  Whether it was sleep or just unconsciousness, Gary didn’t care.  All he knew was, he was delivered from the hell that had suddenly become his life.

A big man with red hair and simple clothes to match his simple life spotted him.  He was on his way back home when he saw an arm, palm side up, sticking out of the brush in the dunes.

“Hey!”  He shouted.  “Hey!  You OK?” 

The lifeless form didn’t respond.  Judd rushed over and half crashed into him and half knelt down beside him, trying to shake some life into him.  “Hey, come on now, you answer me.” 

By the look of him, he’d been roughed up pretty good.  Angry purple bruises spotted his chest, sides and face.  Looked to Judd like at least one of the poor man’s arms was broken. 

He leaned down and put his ear next to Gary’s nose and discovered he was still breathing. 

Resolved, he slung Gary over his shoulder and carried him home.

Judd lived with his mother and father on a large farm.  He burst through the back door with Gary over his shoulder. 

His mom, Julia, was working in the kitchen.  “My goodness, Judd.  Is that racket really necessary.”  She wiped her hands on her apron as she turned around.  “What’s happened?” 

“Not sure.  He needs some help.” 

“Well don’t just stand there with the poor boy slung over yo shoulder like a sack o’ potatoes.  Take him upstairs!  I’ll be there with some water and rags shortly.” 

“Henry!  We got some trouble in here!”  She hollered out the back window, hoping her husband was close enough to hear her. 

She rushed upstairs, not spilling a single drop of hot water along the way.  She set the pot of water on the nightstand next to the bed and soaked the first rag.  As she rung it out, she looked Gary over while Judd stood on the other side of the bed. 

“My my.  Someone really worked him over.” 

“What’s happened?”  Henry asked. 

“Oh, I didn’t see you come in, Henry.  Judd’s brought us a boy that’s been beaten pretty badly.”

“Whaddya think?”

“I think we best help him any way we can.” 

He nodded.  “Anything I can do?” 

“Just stay outta my way for now.”

He grunted and turned to leave.  He clapped Judd on the shoulder on the way out.  “Ya done the right thing, bringin’ him here.” 

Judd nodded and watched his father go back to work. 

Gary woke up forty-eight hours after arriving on Judd’s farm.  Julia was sitting in the chair next to his bed mending a shirt that belonged to one of the boys. 

He groaned.  Everything hurt. 

“Well now, good morning to you.”  Julia said.  She set her sewing down on the nightstand and leaned closer.  She smelled like cinnamon.  It was very soothing to him.   

“What’s your name, child?” 

“Ga…”  he croaked.  His voice was raw from lack of use, or trauma, he wasn’t sure which.  He cleared his throat.  “Gary.” 

Julia handed him a cup of water.  “Nice to meetcha Gary.  I’m Julia.  My son Judd found ya two days ago over by the river.  What were ya doin’ out there in nothing but your skivvies?”

His mind was foggy.  He remembered being cold, and hurt.  He remembered thinking he was going to die.  But he couldn’t put his finger on why he’d been there in the first place. 

“I…I’m not sure.” 

“Can ya tell me where you’re from?  Where do ya live, honey?  You got family worrin’ about ya?”

Gary’s eyebrows came together.  He shook his head.  “I don’t know.” 

“Well, don’t you worry.  I’m sure it’ll all come back to ya.  In the meantime, you just rest.  When you’re feelin’ better, you can help Judd out on the farm.”  

He nodded.  She stood to leave and put her hand on his forehead.  “Don’t trouble yourself.  It’ll all work out in its own time.” 

Gary found little comfort in her words as he lay in a strange bed, in a strange place, full of strangers; including him. 

Instead of pressuring Gary, they allowed him to rest, heal and eventually settle into a routine.  He was hurt pretty bad, but without the aid of X-rays and other modern technologies, it was difficult to tell how extensive the damage was.

In the beginning, small things had been milestones, like getting out of bed or getting dressed.  It took over a week for him to come downstairs and eat with them.  After that, he spent as much time as he could outside exploring the land, and every day he got a little further.  Their land was huge.  Acres and acres of fields with all types of crops, that kept them fed.  Despite the fact that winter was closing in fast, Judd explained they’d always had something to eat, and something to take care of.  They even shared with the neighbors who were willing to come get it. 

Henry was a down-to-earth man in his mid-sixties.  He was thin as a rail with a white curly beard.  He always wore overalls and a baseball cap to keep the sun out of his face.  One day, Gary asked him about the food sharing, and he said, “Well, I’ve got enough to go round here, but I can’t be going all over creation takin’ food.  But if they’re willin’ to come get it, they can have what they can carry.” 

In fact, they had so much to go around, Judd’s father said they hadn’t had trouble with the type folks were calling “Wanderers.”  Apparently they were thieves with no home to call their own.  They just roamed around, violently taking from those who worked for what they had.  But Judd’s family always had enough, and gave willingly, so they hadn’t seen much hostility from Wanderers.  And if the Wanderers started feeling a sense of entitlement, Judd and his dad had no trouble “straightening them out,” whatever that meant.

The home they shared was huge, and Gary wondered how Julia kept it up.  She was a small woman, also in her mid-sixties, built from a life of working with her hands.  She didn’t take ‘nothin’ from nobody’, but she was sweet as the pies she made.  She often told stories about her life growing up in Virginia, about Judd when he was a kid, and how she met his father.  By the time Gary was ready to start helping out, he felt like he knew her whole life history. 

Eventually they gave Gary chores to do around the farm, and he liked it.  It was quiet.  No sense of urgency, except for this tiny part of him that tugged at the back of his mind.  Like he was supposed to be somewhere, with someone.  Usually he just ignored it. 

One day, about a month after Gary arrived at their farm, he was bringing in an armload of chopped wood.  Despite the chill in the air, he was sweating from swinging the ax.  He piled the wood next to the stove and stood to wipe his forehead with his sleeve.  He smiled down at the pile, pleased.  He was achingly sore, but a few weeks ago, it would’ve been too much to manage, so he considered the pain a good thing.