HOMELAND: Falling Down (Part 1 of the HOMELAND Series) (15 page)

Her hand took his. “Thank God you’re alive.”

“Just barely.” Hank smiled as his wife’s face came into focus. “Where’s Maggie?”

“The pastor’s wife is watching her. She’s fine.”

“Brandon?”

“Some broken ribs, but he’ll be alright.”

Hank coughed. His mouth was parched. “Water?”

Betty held a straw to his mouth. The cool drink refreshed him and cleared the cobwebs from his head.

He smiled. “That’s better. What time is it?”

“It’s late.”

“At least the power is back on.”

Betty glanced up at the room’s weak lights. “The hospital’s emergency generators are running these. The rest of town is still dark.”

“My head is killing me.”

“You’ve been out a long time. We didn’t know if you were going to make it. You were hallucinating. Fever dreams.” Betty felt his head. “You’re still warm.”

“It’s been a tough day.”

“Three days, Hank. You’ve been unconscious for three days.”

“Three days?” Hank’s eyes widened. “They’re coming.”

He tried to sit up, but fell back in agony.

“Who?”

“The guys that hit the Walmart and took Brandon’s parents. They’ll come back.”

“They already did. Mayor Duncan is negotiating with them.”

“Damn Fool. I gotta to get outta here before he gets us all killed.”

Hank tried to rise again, but cringed with pain.

Betty caressed his cheek. “Shhh. Be still. You’re safe now.”

Hank shook his head. “None of us is safe as long as they’re out there. I need to tell…”

 “Hank.” Betty’s face turned serious. “Sweetheart, I have to tell you something.” She let go of his hand and locked eyes with him. “Please listen.”

“What is it?”

“It’s a miracle you’re still alive. You were nearly dead when you got here. The doctors did all they could, but they couldn’t save it.”

“Save what?”

She glanced at Hank’s side.

He looked down at his left arm to see a freshly bandaged stump. This limb had been amputated above the elbow.

10

EDUARDO

Angie shivered as she slept in Eduardo’s arms that night. It was the first sleep she’d had since they escaped Manhattan on the back of an old Styrofoam cooler four days before.

Eduardo’s eyes darted to every sound in the moonless woods around them, but it did no good. He could barely see his hand in front of his face. The murky forest was alive with noise—a rustling here, a snapping there. His cold fingers gripped a crude wooden club fashioned from a tree limb; the pistol Kaafi gave him was at the bottom of the Hudson River.

Eduardo was cold and exhausted, but didn’t dare sleep. A fire was also out of the question in spite of the lingering dampness in his shoes and clothes. The flames would be seen for hundreds of yards and smelled from even farther, drawing unwanted attention.

Luckily, his trusty backpack made the crossing. But even that old friend had its limits. They finished the last of its three MREs before dark and were still hungry. The water was gone too. At least the Mylar survival blanket was dry. Eduardo pulled it close around them as a light rain began to fall.

They followed the rail lines out of the city. The roads were choked with refuges and Eduardo had enough experience to know there was no safety in numbers. Every companion meant another mouth to feed, another competitor for limited resources. To stay with the herd was to put themselves at the mercy of the most Darwinian of circumstances.

Raindrops pattered a lullaby against the plastic blanket. Eduardo’s head dropped, then jerked back up. He had to stay awake. But he was cold and tired. So…tired…

Eduardo’s eyes grew heavy. His vision blurred. His grip on the improvised club slackened and his chin fell to his chest.

*****

He was back in his apartment. It was warm. The lights were on, set to romantically dim. Soft music played. The city lit up the world outside his window.

He heard his date moving around in the bedroom. Another intern. What was her name? From the sound of it, she was riffling through his closet. He didn’t care.

“Find what you’re looking for?” he called to the next room as he poured some drinks.

He looked up to see her standing in the doorway, naked except for one of his ties around her soft neck. Eduardo held a tumbler of scotch out for her.

She stepped toward him. Her shapely legs moved slowly, tentatively. A bare foot landed lightly on the carpet. It crunched. Another lithe step. Another crunch.

Crunch. Crunch. Crunch.

*****

Eduardo’s eyes shot open.

Crunch. Crunch.

He froze, his breathe stuck in his throat.

The rain pattering on the Mylar blanket suddenly sounded like a jackhammer.

He shook Angie and whispered, “Wakeup.”

She opened her eyes. “Wha—”

Eduardo put his hand over her mouth. The footsteps paused. He removed his hand from Angie’s face and raised a finger to his lips.

The footsteps resumed. More joined in. Whoever they were, Eduardo guessed there were four or five of them. They drew closer.

Eduardo slipped on his backpack and grabbed the club. He and Angie eased from under the blanket, leaving it flat on the ground. They crept blindly into the blackness on hand and knees, silently treading across the wet fallen leaves.

The footsteps stopped again. Mylar crinkled loudly as someone picked their blanket from the soggy ground.

“Keep looking,” a voice said.

Eduardo and Angie crawled into a gully and lay still, trying to become one with the ground.

The crinkling grew louder as the blanket was folded and stuffed into its new owner’s unseen pocket.

Eduardo took advantage of the noise and swept leaves over Angie and himself.

“Shhhh,” another stalker hissed, “I hear something.”

Crunch. Crunch. Crunch.

He was right on top of them.

Eduardo felt Angie’s trembling breath hot on his neck. He looked up to see a pair of black boots standing so close he could touch them.

The rain picked up, turning to a downpour.

The boots stepped closer, stopping inches from Eduardo’s face.

Eduardo tightened his fingers around the club, preparing the break the knee of a man whose face he’d never seen.

He counted to himself.

One.

Eduardo’s mouth went dry as his heart climbed into his throat.

Two.

He raised his gaze to the target, tensing the muscles in his arm.

Three.

“Let’s go!” a voice called from the rainy darkness.

The boots turned to respond. “Not yet.”

“They’re gone.”

“No. They’re here.”

“It’s freakin’ freezing out here. You can drown out here for all I care. I’m going back.”

“Me too,” another added as the rain began to come down in sheets.

Squish. Squish. Squish.

They were leaving.

“Shit,” boots muttered, “Wait for me!”

Boots slogged after his friends. Their footfalls sloshed out of hearing, leaving the roiling of rain and leaves the only sounds in the world.

Eduardo and Angie lay in the patch of low ground, still as corpses, too cold and afraid to move as exhaustion overcame them.

*****

Eduardo awoke first. He raised his head from the stream that had appeared before dawn. They were half submerging in bone chilling runoff that coated them with forest flotsam.

He held his breath, listening. He heard Angie’s wheezing breath, his own violent trembling, and the tap tap tapping of water on leaves that always filled the woods after a storm.

He looked around, seeing nothing but bare, wet trees and gray, cloudy sky. He guessed it was still morning, but couldn’t be sure.

“Angie,” he whispered, “Wake up. Time to go.”

She opened her eyes and looked up at him, her limbs curled into a fetal position. “It’s so cold.”

“I know. Can you stand?”

“I don’t know.”

“You have to try. We can’t stay here.”

“I know.” Angie struggled to sit up. “It’s so cold.”

Both of them were soaked to the skin and covered with leaves and dirt.

Eduardo stood, his stiff joints creaked and groaned protesting every inch. He took Angie’s hand and helped her to her feet. He put a soggy arm around her. “Let’s go.”

“Where?”

“Anywhere but here.”

They stumbled through the sloppy soil for hours, each step more difficult than the last.

Angie stumbled and fell to her knees. “I’m so tired. Let’s rest. Just for a while.”

“No. We have to find shelter. We’ll die if we spend another night out here.”

“We’ll die anyway. Let’s just rest.”

“Don’t say that. Don’t you ever say that again.” Eduardo pulled Angie to her feet. “You can do it.”

The sun was almost gone when they came to a wire fence. Cows stared at them, lazily chewing their cud from the pasture on the other side.

Eduardo hefted Angie over. “There has to be a house nearby. Maybe whoever lives there will let us dry out and give us some warm food.”

The farmhouse was easy to find. It was a white two-story classic with a barn out back. They approached slowly, hiding in the brush as best they could. There was no sign of inhabitants except for an old pickup truck sitting in the dirt driveway.

Eduardo pulled Angie behind an oak tree fifty yards from the front porch. “Stay here while I check it out.”

He continued alone cautiously. “Hello? Anybody here?” He held his hands up. “We’re not robbers. We just need a dry place to stay the night. Hello?”

He stepped onto the front porch. “Anybody home? We just need to get warm and dry. We can stay in the barn. Hello?”

The front door was open. Eduardo poked his head in. “Hello? Anybody home?” He searched the ground floor, calling out for the owners, but none called back.

The hardwood floors creaked as he crept into the kitchen. The countertops were clean. So was the dining table except for a vase of fresh wildflowers in its center.

Eduardo checked the cupboards. They were immaculate. Plates, cups, bowls, and glasses all stacked in neat rows. In one cabinet, he found several Mason jars filled with homemade pickles. He took one and placed in his pack.

He noticed the stove was a gas model. He turned a knob. A deep hiss sounded from a cooking eye underneath a tea kettle. He leaned in and sniffed.

Propane.

He turned it back off and wandered into the living room. Family pictures adorned the walls here. Photos of kids and grandkids mostly with a few featuring an older couple holding hands or surrounded by kinfolk.

A comfy couch and loveseat sat in front of a fireplace. A book of crossword puzzles sat under a pair of reading glasses on an end table between the sofas.

A tidy stack of fresh cut wood waited just to the side of the hearth, which was full of fresh ashes. Eduardo put his hand over them.

Still warm.

Whoever lived here hadn’t been gone long. He decided to leave before they returned and gave him a nasty case of lead poisoning.

He went outside to the barn. A green tractor greeted Eduardo as he entered through the creaky door. He felt the cowling. It was cold. He looked around the building. Pitchforks and other implements hung neatly on one wall. Hay bales were stacked chest high along the other. He spotted a stand-up kerosene space heater next to a drum full of fuel in the far corner. Horse stalls occupied the back of the building. He peeked inside. They were empty, but full of fresh, dry hay.

This will do nicely.

Eduardo fueled the heater and moved it into one of the stalls. Next came a few hay bales. Once they were set, he took a seat on one, setting the backpack in his lap. From a side pocket he drew a plastic cylinder of waterproof matches.

He primed the wick and lit the heater. There was a whiff of raw kerosene, then the soft glow of heavenly warmth. Eduardo smiled as he went to the barn door and waved Angie in.

“D-d-d-did y-you f-find anything?” She was shaking so hard, she could barely walk.

“Sure did.” Eduardo helped her to the stall and sat her on a soft bale. The small space was already turning cozy and warm.

Angie put her hands as close as she dared to the heater, trying to chase the chill from her bones.

Eduardo stood and walked to the stall door.

“W-Where are you going?”

“I’ll be right back.”

Angie heard rustling from another stall, then Eduardo returned with a quilted horse blanket. He put it over her shoulders.

“Now you can take off those wet clothes.”

She tried to hold the blanket close as she disrobed, but it kept falling off her shoulder.

“Here.” Eduardo pulled it back over her. “Let me help.”

She held her garments out from the covering as she took them off. Eduardo took each item as she offered it, carefully spreading it on a bale to dry.

Darkness fell as she removed the last of her clothes, leaving her naked under the heavy fabric.

“Still cold?” Eduadro asked.

Angie nodded. “Yeah. But not as bad as before.”

“Hungry?”

“I could eat a horse.”

Eduardo pulled the Mason jar from his pack. “How about pickles?”

“Where did you get those?”

“I found them in the house. Didn’t think they’d miss a jar.”

He broke the vacuum seal and offered Angie the first taste.

She bit into the vegetable with a crunch. Her eyes widened. “Not bad.”

Eduardo picked a pickle for himself from the jar. “Remind me to leave a thank you note.” He leaned back against the soft hay. It felt marvelous. For the first time since his apartment, Eduardo allowed himself to relax. “This is nice.”

“It’s easy to forget what’s going on out there.” Angie smiled. “I could almost believe this is just a botched camping trip.”

“Things always feel better when you’ve got a warm bed and a full stomach.”

“I wish we could stay here…Just until this all blows over.”

“Maybe we can. We’ll ask the owners when they get back. Hopefully they’ll see the value of extra help and safety in numbers.”