Opposite him and coming toward him at a fast walk was a man wearing a matching Columbia jogging suit and windproof jacket, all black. He was middle-aged, with gray staining the sides of his head. He wore an athletic build, but beset by his age; flab beginning to show on his sides and in his face. He had neatly trimmed black eyebrows, framing deep-set blue eyes. He was gesticulating wildly as he shouted to get the man’s attention. Cooper couldn’t help but notice his manicured hands as he did so.
Cooper pulled the truck to the curb and reflexively pushed Jake’s head below the dashboard.
“Stay here,” he muttered as he slid out of the pickup, and stood behind the opened door. They were only about fifteen yards away, so Cooper pulled the pistol out of its holster, but kept it out of view.
“Old man! Old man!” The well-dressed man shouted from ten feet away.
“I ain’t deaf, son! Whatchya want?” the white-haired man replied gruffly.
“Water. Just water, my friend. The stores are all out. I’ll pay you. Whatever you want.”
The old man began laughing. “Money? Now?” He paused, scratching his head, “Let me ask you a question, son. Did you ever give me anything when I was standing at the freeway entrance with my cardboard sign?”
The black-suited man looked confused, “I… I don’t know. I don’t remember ever seeing you there.”
Cooper couldn’t see the old man’s face from this angle, but he heard a wry smile in his voice, “I’m not talking about just me. It’s all of us. We’re all the same. Did you ever give anything to anybody at the freeway exit?”
He dipped his head, “No… no I didn’t… but I have lots of money now.” He pulled out a handful of twenty and hundred dollar bills from his pocket.
Cooper heard the old man laughing again, “I thought not. I don’t need your money now. Just tell me, why I should give you any of my water.”
The other man was flummoxed and shifted his feet restlessly. Finally, he turned his head back up toward the old man, outstretched his hands, and whined, “Because I need it?”
The old man rocked back onto his heels and nodded, “Exactly. That’s a good enough reason to give someone something isn’t it? They need it. Take a case and I hope you remember that, son.”
The other man hesitated for a moment, surprised at the man’s answer. His eyes flashed in a moment of recognition at the other man’s point. Then, he grabbed a case from the man’s cart, leaving three remaining, muttered a ‘thank you’ and rushed off towards a BMW parked across the street.
Cooper turned to look across the cab in amused surprise at Mark. He saw Jake, eyes perched just over the dashboard. He wagged his finger at him in reproach, but couldn’t help smiling.
He briskly walked toward the old man, re-holstering his pistol, “Old timer, hold up a minute.”
The old man turned toward him. Mark and Jake came up behind Cooper.
“That was a nice thing you just did.”
“Nice? No. Necessary, but not nice.”
“Why’d you do it,” Jake piped up.
The old man bent slightly and looked at Jake, “Just like I done said. He needed the water, so I gave it to him.”
“But, you needed lots of things and no one gave them to you? People just don’t give things to those who need them, that’s just the way things work in this world,” Mark blurted out in surprise.
The old man turned towards Mark, “And, look around, son,” he waved his left hand in a wide circle. “That way doesn’t work very well, does it?”
Everyone thought in silence for a few moments. Then, Cooper cut in, “But what about you? Do you have enough water now? Do you need anymore?”
The old man laughed again, sparking a brief wet cough. “I’ve got plenty. This water isn’t for me. It’s for them.” Again, he gestured in a wide arc, with both hands this time. He then turned back towards his cart, grabbed it with both hands and began lumbering back up the boulevard, whistling faintly as he did so.
The three of them looked at each with bemused smiles and wagging of heads.
“Dad, was that a good man?”
“Yes, son. It certainly was. One of the best, I’d say.”
They turned back towards the pickup.
Chapter 11
The lightheartedness induced by the old man and the lessons he taught amidst the chaos and death was wrenched away from them on their journey home. When they passed the wreck that they had skirted on the way to the hardware store, the body of the woman who had begged them to take her to the waterfront lay in the street. Her body lay twisted in a gruesome mockery of a rag doll; torn and bloody. Her legs were outstretched in opposite directions. They looked like they had been squashed by a vehicle driving over them. Her arms lay directly above her head, as if reaching for something. Her chest was a mash of red and gore. She had been hit multiple times with a large caliber rifle of some kind. Mercifully, her face was a picture of peace and perfection, a tight-lipped smile concealing her misshapen teeth and her eyes gazed skyward as if beholding the gates of Heaven itself. Cooper tried to shield Jake’s eyes from the horrific scene, but it was too late.
A few hundred yards further up the road, a blue Corolla was listless, with its right wheels stuck over the curb and blocking the sidewalk. It was another bloody mess. All the windows had been shot out and the car’s body was riddled with bullet holes. Inside, it was a morbid jumble of blood and flesh torn asunder.
Mark whistled, “What the hell?” He shot up a hand to block Jake’s view, beating Cooper’s own flashing hand. Jake’s eyes squinted and his mouth fell open in shock. His left hand shot instinctively to cover his mouth as he gagged.
“Keep an eye out, have your pistol at the ready!” Cooper barked. He drew his own pistol and gunned his motor, in hope of throwing any would-be ambushers off their plan. “Jake, get down!” Jake slithered down below the dashboard and curled up between the legs of the two men.
Cooper’s eyes scanned the surrounding buildings and shrubs. He saw nothing as the pickup pulled alongside the car. He could not help but looking inside. The scene that met his eyes made everything pass in slow motion.
A family lay slaughtered. The father was slumped over the steering wheel. A shotgun blast had taken off the top half of his head, which lay flopped over, like a Pez dispenser. In the passenger seat, a woman sat upright, eyes open looking blankly ahead. She looked oddly peaceful, save two softball sized bloody wounds in her torso. One was right over her heart and the other in her stomach. In the rear seat were three children, with a toddler in the middle strapped into her car seat. The close stitching of bullet holes and wounds told him that all three had been cut almost in half by a submachine gun blast from close range. The boy closest to them, with a shock of blonde hair standing out amidst all the blood, had powder burns on his face. He couldn’t have been older than twelve.
Mark frantically lowered his window and gulped fresh air. Cooper clamped down his jaw and gritted his teeth. Anger flushed blood to his face and he tightened his grip on the pistol until his fingers hurt.
Mark brought his head back inside the cab, “What was this? Did they shoot them up close?”
“It was point blank. See those dark marks around the boy? Those are powder burns. This was up close, execution style.”