The King of Clayfield - 01 (27 page)

"I have a list in here somewhere. It might not fit us exactly, but it should give us an idea. Actually, there are several lists in here."

I gave each of us a stack of papers.

"Look through what I have, and we can make our own list from these."

I
 
poured myself some coffee and took my own stack of papers back to my chair.

"But you're right about the house," I said.
 
"We should be as comfortable as possible.
 
Put
 
a house at the top of your list."

CHAPTER 27

It rained steady for the next
 
four days. We ran out of firewood on the
 
morning of the
 
third day. It was a big relief, because we were all pretty bored by that time. We'd been doing nothing but sitting around reading and talking. We were all starting to get edgy, and we were ready for a diversion. I had a real hankering for some TV or internet surfing--anything. I wondered how people managed to stay sane before the age of electronics. I guess, like quitting smoking, it was just a withdrawal stage.

The shed at the little yellow brick house had plenty of firewood, so the three of us loaded up in the pickup
 
to drive over there
 
and get it.
 
The weather was miserable--soggy, cold, and gray.
 
On the way, I
 
was looking at the houses on the road in a new way; I was shopping.
 
I didn't see anything I liked, but there
 
were thousands more from which to choose.

"You know what?" I said, "Let's
 
go ahead and look
 
for a new place now. It doesn't look like the rain is going to stop; we
 
could spend the time driving around instead of sitting
 
in that little building
 
staring at each other."

"I thought you said we were getting low on gas," Jen said.

"I thought you said we could steal whatever car we wanted," I said.

"It ain't stealing," she said.

"I know," I said. "I'm just joking with
 
you."

"Okay. Let's find a roomy vehicle, and then we'll park the
 
truck and use it to get the
 
firewood later."

I slowed down in front of houses so we could look at them and their vehicles. We drove a couple of miles. We
 
only saw one person
 
and they were out in a field.

"Oooh," Sara said, "I like that car."

It was an old, red
 
car--late '60s to early '70s model--parked under the carport of a big white
 
farmhouse. There were other newer vehicles
 
parked up there, too, but...sure, why not. We pulled up in the driveway, and we all got out.
 
Sara ran up under the carport and looked in the car's passenger side window.

"Isn't it beautiful?" she said. "My dad used to take me to car shows. This is a 1967 Cutlass Supreme. It's in perfect condition, too."

"Yeah," I said, as we joined her. "It's really nice."

"It'll
 
drink the gas, won't it?" Jen said.

Sara shrugged, "Gas is free now, so who cares. Anyway, I imagine that truck you've been driving
 
drinks it, too."

"Gas is free, hon, but getting at it is the problem, and they ain't making it anymore."

"Come on," Sara said. "Just for today."

"Sure," I said. "Let's go back to the truck and get the shotgun, then we'll go
 
inside and find the keys."

Jen stepped around the driver’s side of the car to go into the house.

"Wow, look at this," she said.

I went around the car. Lined up between the car and the house were
 
three 5-gallon gasoline cans and four 5-gallon kerosene cans. I went down the line lifting them. All of the gas cans, and all but one of the kerosene cans
 
were completely full.

Next to them was something covered with a tarp. I pulled the tarp away and found a wooden pallet stacked with
 
bottled water
 
and toilet paper.

Jen and I looked at each other, trying to make sense of it, and then we both came to the same conclusion.

Sara was opening the storm door to the house.

"Sara," Jen whispered. "Get back to the truck."

"What? Why?"

Before Sara could move, the door to the house opened and a gun barrel came out, directed at her face.

"Get off my property," a man said.

Jen and I backed away to the side, out of the man's field of vision. Jen reached in her coat and pulled out the .22 revolver.

"We're sorry," Sara said. "We didn't know anybody lived here."

The man stepped out of the house, backing Sara up to the classic car.

"Well, somebody does."

He
 
looked like he was in his mid to late 30s. He had dark hair, a new beard, and a
 
little
 
paunch. He
 
looked like he'd gotten dressed quickly. His jeans were fastened under his belly but not zipped, his
 
blue flannel shirt was open, his hat was on crooked, and he was wearing
 
green rubber boots.
 
 
He looked
 
at Jen and me, noticed Jen's
 
weapon and aimed his gun at us. We backed up even farther and were now standing in the rain.

"No," I said. "It's okay. We don't want to bother anybody. We thought the place was abandoned. We're almost out of gas, so--"

"So you thought you'd steal mine."

"No," I said. "We didn't know you were here."

"It's
 
a good thing I was, or you would have robbed me blind."

"We're going to leave now," I said. "We didn't mean any harm."

Sara side-stepped along the car until she joined us, then we all backed away toward the pickup. He kept his gun on
 
us and walked up to the edge of the carport.

"Are there more of you?"

I stopped, "There are more survivors, if that is what you mean."

"How many?"

"Four more that we know of, but they're not with us."

He lowered his gun, "Is that all?"

I nodded.

"Do you have any news? Has the government stopped it? Are they coming to help us?"

"No," I said. "Nobody's coming. The virus is probably worldwide by now."

"Probably?"

"It crossed the Mississippi River a few days ago," I said, "It moved into Asia, too."

The end of the barrel of his gun dropped down and pointed at the ground.
 
His brow furrowed as he thought about what I'd just told him.

The three of us had stopped moving toward the truck; we were just standing there in the rain.

"Aw, hell," he said.
 

"We really ain't here to hurt nobody," Jen said.

He didn't answer; he just
 
looked up at us, distracted and sad.

We continued to stand there for a few more seconds, but
 
we needed to get out of the rain.

"We're
 
going now,"
 
I said.

We all
 
climbed into the truck. The
 
cold rain
 
had soaked in, and we were all shivering.
 
I started the truck and turned on the heat and windshield wipers. I started backing down the driveway, when the man ran out after us and
 
slapped the hood.

"Wait!" he said.

I stopped and he came around to Jen's window.

"I ain’t got nobody left," he said. He looked so pitiful
 
with rain dripping off his crooked hat.

"We don't either," Jen said.

He nodded.

"Y'all can have some gas," he said. "Why don't you come in for a while. I ain't
 
seen nobody in
 
almost a week."

CHAPTER 28

His name was Charlie, and he was a manager at the chicken processing plant. There were stacks of canned goods and another kerosene jug sitting in his dining room. There was a kerosene heater in the middle of the living room. He'd been sleeping in there, too. He had blankets hung up over the doorways to help keep the heat in that room. There were blankets on the couch and the ashtray on the coffee table was overflowing with ash and butts.

We all took off our wet coats, and he brought in a pot of coffee for us. Then he sat in one of the chairs and started talking.

"I work the night shift," he said, removing his hat. He was starting to go bald on top. "I woke up last Thursday around four in the afternoon, and Wendy wasn't here. We knew things were supposed to get bad, so I figured she'd gone into town to get more food and water.

"I couldn't get her on her cell. Then it started getting late. I turned on the news, and I knew it had already started. I tried to call in to work, but nobody answered the phones.

"My daughter Katie is a freshman at Purdue, and we'd told her to stay put, because we thought she be safer there than here. I tried to call her, but nothing. I saw what they were doing to the bridges and the ferries, and I knew there would be no way I could get to her.

"Around eight that night, I went out looking for Wendy. I found her car parked at Wal-Mart, but I didn't find her right away. God, it was crazy. There were people running around the parking lot. They were fighting and shooting each other. I went in the store, and it was even worse. I tried looking for her in there, but I couldn't find her. While I was in there, I decided to get a few things. We'd already collected a lot of food, but I figured we'd need kerosene. The power would go out eventually, and I remembered how we ran out of fuel during the ice storm.

"I got a cart and went back to automotive and piled it full of gas jugs, then I got kerosene jugs. I tried to keep my head down so no one would notice me. I went around to sporting goods. All of the guns were gone. The case was smashed. There were loose bullets and shotgun shells all over the floor.

"There was nobody at the registers, so I just left. I still can't believe I got in and out like that without getting hurt."

He stopped and lit a cigarette.

"That's when I saw her. I knew it was her, because she had this ugly pink coat that she liked to wear. This guy was...um...he was on top of her, and he was assaulting her right there on the ground. I knocked him off her...then I...I just beat him and kicked him. I think he might have died.

"When I went to check on her, she scratched me and tried to bite me. I tried talking to her, but it wasn't her anymore. All she could do was grunt and growl. I couldn't help her, so I left her there."

He put the heels of his hands against his eyes as if he were trying to mash away the memory.

"Um...there's a gas station over by the county high school that sells kerosene, so I drove out there. There were lots of cars lined up to the station, but they were all abandoned. I found a gas pump that was on, and I filled up my cans with gas and the same with the kerosene, and then I loaded up some others that were sitting next to other cars that were in line.

"I went in the little convenience store there to at least make an effort to pay, but nobody was in there. I went in the stock room and got all the canned goods, water, cigarettes, and toilet paper I could fit in my vehicle. I left a note on the counter with my name and address so I could settle up with them later. Then I went home.

"I must have cried for two days straight."

"Sorry," Jen said.

"Thanks," he said. "But it ain't your fault. It ain't nobody's fault I don't guess. Me and Wendy, we been together since high school. We had to get married--you know how that is. My folks were so embarrassed, but I really couldn't have had a better wife...a better friend. I miss her, but I don't got no regrets when it comes to her."

He wiped away tears, put out his cigarette, and lit another.

"If what y'all say is true about the virus, then I guess Katie has it, too, or is like us and hiding somewhere. Either way, I'll probably never see her again either. I've already cried for her, too."