Home Fires Burning (Walking in the Rain Book 2) (9 page)

“I know, man.  This just seems like robbing the dead, is all.”

“If it makes you feel any better, I doubt any food or consumables you find here will have come from the Trimbles.  Mrs. Trimble said they were running low on food when the raiders hit their place.  I think that might have been part of why they were treated like that.  The raider chief didn’t believe they were almost out of food.”

Mark looked down, and Nick spoke up.

“I offered Sean Trimble some supplies when we met him, but he seemed reluctant to accept anything.  He said this was only a temporary thing, like a hurricane.”

Yes, I thought, a lot of people had that idea.  Just the power lines down, or some other local problem.  Until they were out of food and water, and the neighbors started eyeing their already starving pets.  Or the neighbors themselves.
 

“Luke, I think we will do like you said.  Nothing else, we can give the food to someone else in need.”

With that settled, we began our search of the camp in earnest.  We rotated one man on guard duty at all times and the other two performed a quick survey of the lean-tos and larger tents used for storage.  Nothing was removed but we all made note of what was found.

By the time I heard the familiar throaty purr of diesel engines approaching, the three of us had a good handle on what the raiders had stockpiled.  I figured we would need to come back the next day with several trucks to load all the looted items.  And bring the dead back to the farm for burial, I suggested as we walked back over closer to the road.

“Which ones?”  Nick asked.

“Mr. Trimble and the other victims Scott said were at the body dump.”

“Oh,” Nick sighed with relief.  “I thought you meant all of them.  That would need a big hole, even with a back hoe.”

“What are we going to do with the dead raiders?”    

“Fuck ‘em.  Wild hogs and coyotes gotta eat, too.  I’m not wasting time burying this bunch.”  I spoke with considerable venom and neither of my companions suggested otherwise, but Nick had another idea.

“Let’s check their pockets for any identification first.  I don’t recognize any of these guys, so we need to find out where they are coming from.”

Great idea, and that’s just what we were doing when Scott came walking up leading Cass McWorter and two more men from the farm.  When Nick saw his aunt with the three men, he waved to get my attention.

“Luke, take Aunt Cass over to the Trimbles.  I should have figured she would come.”

Nodding, I dropped the four wallets I’d recovered in the sack Nick was using to hold them and headed over to Cass.  All the guys I found had Little Rock addresses, which confirmed some of my fears.

“Hey, kid.  I heard you got shot again.”

I had to grin at her offhand comment.  Like she was talking about the weather.

“’It’s merely a flesh wound.  ‘Tis but a scratch,” I replied, quoting from one of my favorite movies.

She gave me a mock glare as she approached.  I could tell the men with her had no idea what I was talking about.

“Son, you are too young to even know who Monty Python is, much less quoting from that movie.”

“What can I say?  I’m an old soul.  Seriously, it is just what Nick calls a bullet burn.  Didn’t even bleed.  Now, follow me and I’ll get you to your new patients.”

With that grim reminder, Cass broke off from Scott and company to join me in approaching the makeshift camp we set up for the Trimbles.

“How bad is it?” Cass asked under her breath as she drew near.  “Scott was being evasive when he said you found a mother and her two daughters.  Just that they looked to be in poor shape.”

I looked down, not meeting the woman’s gaze.

“No food, no water for at least a couple of days.  Maybe longer.  Signs of dehydration and likely malnutrition.  All three have been raped and beaten, multiple times.  Probably sodomized as well.  Oh, and they got to listen to Sean Trimble, husband and father, as he was tortured to death.”

When I dared look over at Cass, I found the older woman white faced and trying to avoid spilling tears.  She tried to project a “tough old broad” demeanor as my grandfather would have called it, but in a few sentences I’d managed to break down that barrier.

“What the fuck is wrong with people?  How can someone think this is okay to do?”

I could do nothing but shrug as I tried to maintain eye contact.

“Don’t look at me.  I just kill the assholes.  I can’t figure them out.  Stealing food for your family is one thing, and I can see killing if you need to, but this is just evil for its own sake.”

Maybe there was nothing to figure out.  I remembered my study of world history and from the earliest of times, armies took advantage of the civilian population as they moved across the land.  The textbooks used to teach in public schools watered down the truth, but still I got the idea. 

These raiders represented a new, terrible army loosed in our lands.  With no laws or threat of force to hold them in check, they were raping and pillaging to their black hearts’ content.  All the while, they tore down the foundations of our crumbling civilization.  

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Scott thought to bring two trucks, so we loaded one with the Trimbles and Cass.  Well, more to the point, Cass and I loaded the first truck.  The ladies latched on to Cass well enough, but they never got over the shivers when one of the other men came around.  For some reason, they seemed okay with my presence.  I was afraid to ask why at first and just went with it.

I got to carry first Shay and then Delilah over to the truck, which had a mattress thoughtfully laid out in the bed for ease of travel.  Neither girl spoke to me, or made eye contact, even as I boosted them up on my back to do the carrying, piggy back style.  Cass brought a military surplus stretcher, but neither girl would agree to lie down on the stretched canvas.

As I left to go get Delilah, Shay sat with Cass, hand in hand, and made little mewling sounds like a kitten.  The girl’s face, even after her mother’s thorough washing with creek water, still looked discolored and I realized it was from multiple bruises.  Some half healed, and others fresh.

I noticed the same pattern of bruising on little Delilah’s face, as well as the vacant, lost look in her eyes.  She was barely four foot tall and weighed maybe seventy pounds, and I barely felt her weight as she clung to my neck.  I’d seen variations of that hollow eyed stare a couple of times on my cross-country trek, and I wondered if we could ever get the little girl back.

When Delilah rejoined her sister, they linked hands immediately but exchanged not a word.  For that matter, I’d never heard Delilah speak.  Cass murmured something to both girls, her tone gentle and calming, and I remembered that Cass too had a little girl in that throng of children inhabiting the main house.  Again I was grateful for the barracks.

“Are they okay?”  Mrs. Trimble asked anxiously as I made my way back over to her seated position.  She had taken the opportunity to wash up as well, and she at least could make eye contact for brief moments.

“Yes, ma’am.  They are sitting with Mrs. McWorter.  I’m sure they will be glad to see you as soon as we can get to them.  Are you sure you won’t let us use the stretcher?  Nick or one of the other guys would be glad to help.”

Mrs. Trimble looked down, shivering suddenly and shaking her head ever so slightly.

“They…carried us around on doors, Luke.  Ripped them right off the frames in our house, then tied us to them when they decided to move out here.  Then just strapped us to the roof of one of the trucks they were using.  Like we were luggage.  Said it was easier to move us around that way.”

I had to turn away at the woman’s reaction, but her words spurred a thought.

“Where are their vehicles now?  We didn’t find anything like that when we searched.”

Mrs. Trimble shrugged and rose slowly to her feet.  She’d also dressed herself in a pair of baggy jeans and a long sleeved button up shirt, with the cuffs rolled up, but we’d found no shoes to cover her feet.  She had very small feet, even for a woman.  Instead, Mark came up with a pair of old rubber boots.

“They left out early this morning, I think.  I heard the engines, anyway.  That woke me up.  Then, those…men started hurting Sean again.  They started yesterday…still trying to find out where he’d hidden our food.”  She paused, blinking rapidly, before continuing.

“I think they did it today just for fun.  The boss, he wasn’t even asking questions.  He might have gone with them.  The boss, I mean.  He didn’t come by the tent, this morning…”

With her pause, I got what she meant.

“What’s his name?  The boss.  Did you ever catch what the other men called him?”

“Randall, I think.  Some of the men called him Rand or Randy.”

While we had been speaking, the two of us were walking carefully down the rough trail that existed between the campsite and the dirt road.  With a careful grip on my left forearm, Mrs. Trimble made her way slowly; on legs I knew had to be feeling rubbery and unsure. 

I paused frequently, allowing her to pick a path through the deep ruts in the ground.  Clearly, somebody had been driving back and forth between the raider base and the private road of the timber company.

As we became more comfortable with each other’s presence, I finally screwed up my courage to ask the question that had been bugging me.

“Mrs. Trimble, why me?  I mean, I would never hurt you or your girls.  Never.  But why do you trust me and not Mark or Nick?  They are your neighbors and you know their family.  The Kellers are good people, and they’ve taken in complete strangers, so surely they would help you.”

For a long time, I thought Mrs. Trimble would not answer, and I feared my question had made her withdraw again.  Then she spoke as if no time had passed.

“You came for us.  When I was through begging God to save us, you came.  I was praying to die, Luke.  I wanted to die, and for my girls to die, to stop their suffering.  When I had no more hope left, that’s when you showed up.  I know it doesn’t make any sense, but I think that’s why.”

The sensation on my cheeks warned me of the tears as they fell, but I felt no shame.  How could I feel shame after what this woman endured?  After a beat, she spoke again, her voice low and ragged again, like rough stone.

“I saw you, when you killed Jimmy.  No hesitation, no expression on your face when you stuck that knife in his eye.  You didn’t enjoy it, but you did it just like anybody would, doing a dirty chore.  Like chopping off a chicken’s head or cleaning out a horse stall.  I hope you will teach me how to do that, to kill and feel nothing.  I will learn to protect my girls, and this will never happen to us again.”

For the first time, I heard iron in her raspy voice and a little hope began to grow inside.  If she could recover from her physical trauma, I thought she might be able to find her way back from what happened.

“I’ll teach you everything I can, ma’am.  As soon as you feel up to it, I promise.”

When Mrs. Trimble squeezed my arm in reply, I had to bite to cheek not to call out.  Crap, that burn still hurt.  But, I thought darkly, it did distract me from the ache in my chest.

“There’s something else, Luke.  Something you should know.  I know you said you aren’t from around here, and for me that isn’t a bad thing.”

We were nearly at the truck when Mrs. Trimble finished telling her story, and my blood was near to boiling as I helped her step up into the truck bed.  When I looked around, I saw the other truck was piled high with materials, mainly stacked rifles and cases of ammunition.  Nick and the rest of the farm contingent had not been idle as I tended to the Trimble family.

“Ya’ll ready to roll?” Nick asked, his normal good cheer somewhat restored at the idea of getting the hell out of here.  I wondered how he would be feeling when I shared Mrs. Trimble’s last bit of news with the council.

“Let’s get going.  We’re wasting daylight.”

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

“Nineteen?” Darwin whispered, looking from face to face as we sat in the study once again.  With me were the rest of our team, Darwin Keller, Sid Stevenson, and Stan Schecter and a few more of the grayhairs I still couldn’t reliably put a name to match the face.  Bruce was out on patrol and my good buddy Gary Keller was only notable to me in his absence.

“Yes, sir.  According to what we saw and our witness on site, we didn’t get them all either.  We could have even missed the leader of the gang, but I’m confident that we did get the bulk of them.”  Nick explained.

“And the Trimble family?  Sean’s dead, and his wife and daughters forced to…”

Darwin paused, at a loss for words.  Then he looked at me.

“Is this what it is like, out there?  Casual murder and the widespread destruction of lives and homes?  Is this what you were trying to warn us about?”

I thought for a moment before answering, and gave Nick an apologetic glance before opening my mouth.