THE COLLAPSE: Seeking Refuge (5 page)

Tarra took one look at the hand and knew he wasn’t lying.  There were red stripes exactly the same length apart as the cooking grates on a campsite fire ring.  He must have fell toward the fire and stopped himself on the hot metal grates just before falling in.

Carrie was about to take the agonized man inside the RV to fix him up, but then decided against it.  It was time to test Tarra’s mettle.

“Tarra, do you know what type of burn this is?” Carrie asked.

Tarra didn’t have to study the hand long before replying, “The skin is red and blistered, it’s a second-degree burn.”

Carrie smiled and said, “That’s right.  Do you know how to treat it?”

“I sure do,” Tarra replied.  Then it was her turn to smile as she asked, “Do you have any Silvadene?”

“I do, but it’s limited.  I’m saving it for children only.  Adults can deal with the pain,” Carrie said, pleased with Tarra’s response to her question.

Cole grimaced and shouted, “What?”

“You heard me, children only!” Carrie declared.  She then said to Tarra, “The buckets of water that Kurt just delivered should be nice and cold.  There’s gauze and surgical tape in the cupboards next to the fridge.”

“Surgical?  Why do you need surgical tape?” Cole screamed and looked at Carrie fearfully.

Carrie laughed again, “Cole, that’s just what it’s called!  For crying out loud, just relax!  My new assistant is going to take good care of you.”

“Got it!” Tarra excitedly announced and escorted the burned man (her first patient) to the RV trailer.

Carrie said, “I’ll show your daughters around while you take care of burn-boy.”

              *****

Stephen’s next order of business was to head to Cranberry Lake.  He needed to get all the fishermen onboard with his plan to fish the ocean instead of focusing on the dwindling trout population inside the lake.

Stephen was able to ascertain from the boys on the woodcutting team that the gunshots he had heard earlier that morning were “probably nothing” in their opinion.  They explained that the beach security teams will fire warning shots at boats that get too close to the shore.  Even with that knowledge, Stephen was still a bit apprehensive about being near the beach.  It was unavoidable, however, since his job would heavily entail supervising activities in the saltwater.

“I’ll just have to man up
,” Stephen thought as he walked.
“If need be, I’ll start bringing the M-4 with me if I’m going to the beach.”

As the lake came into view, Stephen saw people fishing all over the lake again as suspected.  He would be able to walk and speak with the folks fishing along the road, but would need a boat to reach the people on the lake using watercraft.  Stephen wondered if there was a concerted effort to share the fish, or if it was an “everyone for themselves” type of thing.

The first group of fishers he approached consisted of four men, a woman, and a young boy around eight or nine years old.  All of them were sitting in chairs, lined up elbow-to-elbow in a small vehicle pullout that had a clearing in the brush just large enough to access the lake.  They had their lines cast out and were bottom fishing for the trout.  When they spotted Stephen approaching, they nudged each other and chattered amongst themselves. 

“Good morning!” Stephen said in a neighborly way.  He didn’t want to come across as a douchebag-in-charge.  “Any luck?” he asked.

The little boy spoke up first, excitedly saying, “We got two!”  He pointed to a red cooler.  Stephen guessed that they were keeping the fish alive with some lake water in the cooler.  Smart.  There were no refrigerators or ice around to keep the fish fresh. 

The adults in the fishing party didn’t share the child’s enthusiasm.  “They’re kind of small,” one of the men said, glumly.

“Dang, that sucks,” Stephen began, “my name is Stephen Alexander, and I have been recently appointed as the new resource manager by Claudine and William.”

The adults looked at each other hopefully.  A man stated, “I heard about that earlier this morning.”  Then he asked, “So
you’re
the new guy?”

“Yupper.  Not sure yet if it’s an honor or an incarceration,” Stephen laughed.  The fishers chuckled for a second, then the first man that had spoken up about the small fish said, “So what happened to Larry, then?”

“That’s a good question,” Stephen admitted.  Then he asked, “Have any of you seen him around at all today?”

The fishers looked at each other, all of them shaking their heads. 

“Nope.”

Stephen didn’t know if that was a bad or good thing.  Larry was a turd, but he had information that would definitely be useful.  But, he would probably just get in the way if he was around.  Or even worse, he might conflict with Stephen’s suggestions and opinions in front of others.  Maybe even get confrontational.  Stephen decided at that moment that Larry was more of liability than an asset.

The fishing party introduced themselves as Art, Charles, Taylor and Kathleen.  Charles went by “Chuck” and Kathleen went by “Kathy”.  The optimistic little boy was Taylor and Kathy’s eight year-old son, and his name was Elliott.

Judging by Kathy’s plumpness, the two small fish in the cooler wouldn’t suffice…

Stephen was just about to ask the group if they have ever tried fishing in the Puget Sound when there was a gunshot.  It was close, and Stephen was positive that it had come from the beach that time.

None of the fishers had flinched or even seemed worried about it.  Taylor said in a disgruntled tone, “I don’t know why they keep wasting ammunition like that.”

Stephen questioned, “What is going on over there?”

“They’re shooting at boats,” Taylor explained. “I don’t know whose policy it is, but any boat that gets closer than a couple hundred yards from the beach gets shot at.”

Art agreed, and added, “Yup, total waste of ammo.  I think most of those boats are either fishing or just taking a look around.  You can’t blame them for looking, can ya?”

“I guess not,” Stephen answered, somewhat confused.  Then he asked, “How do you know it’s just our people shooting at boats?”

Chuck stated, “Because our people carry around air horns.  If it’s an actual attack, they will sound the alarm.”

Stephen became curious, and asked, “Have there been any attacks?”

“Just two.  And they were both fairly recent,” Chuck replied.

“Is that why nobody is fishing in the ocean?” Stephen asked. 

“Nah, some people do,” Art replied. “The beach security teams keep an eye on them while they’re out there.”

Stephen took in the new information.  As long as the security teams kept watch on the fishermen, and they were safe, he decided that he would still continue forward with his saltwater plan.  “
But….only if it’s safe over there,”
Stephen thought.  He wanted to go take a look for himself, just to be sure. 

Before laying out the saltwater proposal to the fishing party, Stephen asked his new friends a quick question, “Have any of you ever eaten smoked herring before?”

Chapter 4

Fish gave up on getting any more sleep just after eleven AM.  He could no longer fight the brightness invading his tent.  “
I’m gonna have to figure something out about this.  If I am working nights, I’ll need to sleep during the day
,” he thought.

Pharaoh had been in the tent, sleeping alongside his master.  He woke up and shook off his grogginess as Fish got dressed. 

“Washington is supposed to be cloudy, damnit!” Fish complained to the dog as he finished putting his clothes on.  It was an awkward task for the very tall Fish to get dressed and put on his boots inside the little tent, especially with Pharaoh in the way.  But, he had managed it many times in the past (without the dog, though), and it wasn’t long before he was out and about.

“Wow, this is a nice-ass day, ain’t it?” Fish declared, once again to the dog, as he downed a bottle of water at the picnic table.   It was only moments later that his stomach rumbled, and Fish found himself climbing into the bed of the truck.  He rifled through all the bags and boxes, looking for something to eat.  Fish, Stephen and Tarra never really talked about food distribution amongst themselves, so Fish decided that since there was no policy established yet, he could eat just about anything he wanted.  Maybe an MRE?  Nah, too much work filling up the heater bag with water and waiting for the chemical reaction to warm up the entrée and side.  It needed to be something else. 

Then bam!  He found the cardboard box that contained the cans of squeeze cheese and assorted boxes of crackers that they had collected from Eddie’s place after his death.  Jackpot!  Fish wondered how many of the crackers would be broken after the bumpy ride through the field.  He selected a box of Garlic Butter Flavored Ritz crackers and a can of American cheese, then carefully climbed back out of the truck with his culinary booty in hand. 

At the picnic table, Fish was delightfully amazed to discover that most of the Ritz’s were unharmed.

“Mmmm.  Bless your heart, Eddie, bless your heart,” Fish said to himself with his mouth full of cheesy-garlic-butter yumminess.  Pharaoh licked his lips as he watched Fish eat, so Fish tossed him a cheese-slathered Ritz, which the dog skillfully caught in his mouth before it hit the ground.

“Dude, I’m going to get your dog food out of the truck.  Stevo’s gonna be pissed at me if he finds out that I’m giving you crackers!”

Just then, Fish heard a gunshot.  He couldn’t discern which direction it had come from, but guessed that it was coming from the beach, just as Tarra had told him earlier that morning.  “
Oh yeah, forgot about that.  Gunshots…she said.  I’m going over there later today, I’ll worry about it then
,” Fish thought, and went back to enjoying his calorie-packed breakfast.

As Fish ate, Pharaoh began a low growl.  It was the emergency alert system in effect.  Fish looked over his shoulder, and sure enough, he spotted a short, gray-haired old man in a khaki-colored, unbuttoned trench coat walking along the road.  He was skinny, and the coat he was wearing was too large for him, almost as if it were someone else’s.  He had his eyes set on Fish at the picnic table.  Oddly enough, the man was carrying a large brown book under his left arm.  Fish hoped that the man wasn’t about to interrupt his meal, but he kept staring at Fish as he walked toward site 199.  It was inevitable.  The man intended on speaking with Fish about something.

“Ah, shit.  He’s coming over here.  It’s okay, boy.  It’s just an old dude,” Fish declared quietly to the still-hungry Pharaoh.  He thought to himself,
“This old coot better not ask for any of my cheese and crackers!”

“Good morning, young man,” the trench-coated old man said, courteously.

“Mornin’,” Fish apprehensively replied back to him with his mouth full.

“May I speak with you for a moment?” the old man asked as he approached the picnic table.  He pointed his palm at the bench on the other side of the table, as if to ask, “May I sit down?”

“I guess,” Fish replied.  The man obliged, and sat down.  The book remained under his left arm as he spoke.

“I understand that you and your family are new here?  I’d like to be one of the first to formally welcome you to The Park,” he said, and extended his right hand to Fish.  Then he introduced himself, “My name is Walter Pullman.”

Fish wiped his greasy, cheesy fingers quickly on his jeans, and shook the man’s hand, “I’m Fish.”

“Nice to meet you, Fish,” the man acknowledged.  Then, he just smiled and watched Fish continue to eat, as if he was waiting for something.

Fish asked, “What’s with the book?”

The man happily replied, “I’m
sooo
glad you asked!”  He gently placed the brown book on the table in front of himself.  The book had faded gold letters that read, “HOLY BIBLE” in the center of the time-worn tome.  Fish knew what was coming next, so he tried to cut it off before it even got started.

“Dude, you’re not going to Jesus-thump me, are you?” Fish asked.  The man eye’s widened and he raised his eyebrows.  He was aghast with shock at Fish’s response, but kept his composure.

“That’s not exactly the proper terminology, young man, but in a way, yes,” Walter said.  He unconsciously began stroking the gold letters on the bible, then continued with, “I only have one question for you, Fish.  Have you been saved?”

“Saved from what?” Fish asked nonchalantly as he chewed.  He was still spraying cheese onto his Ritz crackers and popping them into his mouth, never minding the guest at his table.

Walter looked confused.  Why didn’t Fish know what that meant?  Was he a heathen?  He certainly didn’t have any manners, that much was true.  He was precisely the type of man that needed his help!  These were desperate times!  Walter decided that it was going to be his mission to enlighten this young man, Fish, with the word of Christ.  He figured that he would need to utilize simple words for this man to understand his message.

“Have you accepted Jesus Christ into your heart, Fish?” Walter asked in a serious tone.

Fish thought about it for a moment, then answered, “I think so, back when I was a kid or something.”

“Oh, splendid!  Praise the Lord!” Walter rejoiced, and put his hands together.  At first, Fish thought that the man was done with his sales pitch, and that Fish was off the hook.  Maybe the guy would just get up and leave him alone with his crackers. 

But he was wrong.

“Okay, cool,” Fish said in a bored voice. “Thanks for coming by.” He hoped that the man would take the hint and leave, but he didn’t.

“Fish, can I ask something of you?  These are terrible times, dangerous times.  Can I count on you to help me spread the word of our Lord?”

“Dude, I’m actually kind of busy.  I just got assigned as the new night shift beach security team leader and stuff-” Fish started, but was cut off by Walter.

“Perfect!  You have a position of leadership!  What better way to help spread the Good Word!” Walter had put his hands in the air with joy. 

“Yo, I am totally
not
going to go around and Jesus-thump everyone.  Sorry, you got the wrong guy here,” Fish stated, almost laughing in the process.  Walter’s face instantly morphed from happiness to fury.  He pointed his finger at Fish as if he was about to scold a five year-old child.

“First of all, young man, stop using that term immediately!  It’s disrespectful and blasphemous!  It’s not even the correct one for crying out loud!  And I am absolutely
not
going to repeat to you the proper disrespectful term.  Second, if you haven’t already noticed, Satan is upon us.  Satan is listening!  Just take a look around you!  See what has happened to our world?  Are you ignorant?” Walter screamed fanatically and then sneered at Fish, awaiting a response and a proper apology. 

Fish could tell that Walter was super pissed off, but he wasn’t going to sit there and get punked out by the old man.

“Satan is upon us, Satan is listening?  Is that right?” Fish started, and then nodded his head, as if agreeing with himself inside his brain.  He then reached into his jacket and pulled out his 9mm. He brandished it in front of Walter and continued with, “I’ll tell ya what, if Satan comes around, he’s gonna get two bullets in the fuckin’ chest.  Just like anyone else that decides they wanna come around here and mess with me or my family!”

Walter glanced down at the weapon with terrorized eyes.  He was horrified!  Was Fish referring to him?  He was only trying to save another soul, but this Fish character was beyond saving.  He was a monster!  There was no time to spare, he needed to escape the conversation. 

Walter stood up to leave the table so fast that he had startled Pharaoh, who began barking loudly at the gray haired prophet.

“I must leave at once!” Walter said, frantically.  He snatched his bible off the table and almost fell over the bench backwards trying to get away.  The fearful old man clutched the bible close to his chest and left the table.  

Fish began laughing as Walter sidestepped widely around the furiously barking dog, chanting, “Hellhounds on all sides surround me, Lord give me strength!”

Fish continued to giggle as he watched the skinny man run down the road with enough speed to make his oversized trench coat flap away behind him. 

Once Walter was completely out of sight, Fish shook off the strange encounter and yelled to nobody in particular, “Now
that
was some bizarre-ass shit!”  

Fish said to Pharaoh as he resumed eating, “Good job buddy, thanks for helping me get rid of that weirdo.” 

Fish tossed Pharaoh another cheese-covered cracker as a reward.  “Shhh, don’t tell Stevo!”

*****

It was almost noon.  Stephen, Tarra and the Kays were making their way back to site 199 for some lunch.  Meanwhile, Fish thought about all the food in the back of the truck.  He didn’t like the idea of it being unsecured, especially with weirdos like Walter walking around in The Park, so he spent some time moving it from the bed to the cab of the truck.  He had noticed Stephen and Tarra’s guns on the passenger side floor.  “
Hmmm, why didn’t they take their weapons?  Stevo has a pistol, but Tarra doesn’t have a handgun.  Was she cruising around with the Kays unarmed all day?  I need to talk to her about that
,” Fish thought.

Once everybody was back at site 199, Stephen noticed an empty brown plastic roll in the firepit.  He knew it was from a Ritz box.

Stephen asked Fish, “Did you eat an entire roll of crackers this morning?”

“Yeah, but I didn’t eat the whole can of cheese, though!” Fish replied.  Tarra rolled her eyes at Fish’s comment.

Kyla asked excitedly, “Can we have some cheese and crackers too, daddy?”

“I suppose,” Stephen said, and then sighed in defeat.  He couldn’t deny his children after he just allowed Fish to get away with it.  Stephen continued with, “We’re going to have a family meeting tonight to discuss the food situation.”  He looked mostly at Fish, who was sitting at the picnic table.  Fish was grinning, and he knew that he was in trouble, but damnit…those crackers were totally worth it!

Tarra went to her husband and quietly asked in a mischievous tone as she put her arms around his neck, “Can I have some cheese and crackers too, daddy?”

Stephen laughed her off and replied, “Yeah, yeah, yeah.  Let’s all have some cheese and crackers.  Just for today, though.” 

Stephen sighed and joked silently to himself, “
I’m supposed to be the resource manager for the entire park, and I can’t even manage the resources at my own campsite!”

As everyone (besides Fish) ate their cheesy crackers at the picnic table, the adults talked about their experiences that day.  Fish asked Stephen and Tarra about leaving their guns in the truck, and they had both explained to him that they didn’t want to intimidate anyone, especially since it was their first day in The Park.  Fish understood, but he still didn’t like the idea of Tarra being unarmed.  He offered his 9mm pistol to her, and she declined, saying, “I’m working in the center of the park, I’ll be fine. You’re going to need it more than I will.”

Stephen thought about Fish’s offer.  He was right.  Tarra shouldn’t be unarmed, whether or not she was in the “center” of The Park, it didn’t matter.  So, Stephen offered
his
pistol to her, saying, “I’m going to working at the beach today, so I will be taking the M-4 with me.  You can take Eddie’s .38 special.”

Tarra got upset and put her palms up in front of herself and spouted, “Guys, stop.  Just stop!  Keep your guns.  I’ll take the damn shotgun with me from now on if it will make you two feel better.”

Fish and Stephen nodded at each other silently in agreement.  It actually
did
make them feel better.  Stephen then remembered something, and said, “Oh, and another thing.  If you hear air horns, then we are under attack.  The beach security teams carry them.  Some of the fishermen I spoke with earlier today informed me that there have been two attacks recently.”

Tarra suddenly felt bad about getting upset with the boys.  Maybe they were right after all.

Fish added, “Yeah, and there was this old Jesus-thumper that visited me here today.  Walked right up and sat down!  He got pissed at me, though, and took off.”