“Man…” I muttered.
“Yeah,” he agreed. “So in order to make it easier, you see a lot of the phrasing in these works take on a formulaic quality. Whole passages turn into a kind of mnemonic device. People like Homer must have kept whole paragraphs in their heads and shuffled them about at need to make a meaningful story in the same way we use words to make a coherent sentence. It suggests an incredible amount of genius.”
I didn’t quite know what to say to this. Up until now, Billy had shown a simple, easy manner that almost bordered on “backwoods bumpkin.” His speech and pronunciation suggested a blue collar education, but when he started talking about a nearly-three-thousand-year-old poem, it was like listening to a different person. His demeanor changed to that of a professor. His elocution became precise and clear—nearly musical.
I said, “Billy, go ahead and say this is none of my business if you like, but what exactly did you do before things went south?”
“I was involved in the casino business. Indian gaming.” That twinkle in his eye again.
“There a lot of call to read ancient Greek poetry in your line of work?”
Billy leaned in conspiratorially and said in a low voice, “You know, the Greeks loved their games…” He gave me a light slap on the shoulder and moved by me to walk over to the bike trailer. Right, I thought. Take the hint.
“So, we’ll make it into Vegas today,” Billy started. “How did you want to run this? We can push straight through and check on your parents, but I had planned to take some time moving through the area, keep my eyes out for supplies, like. What kind of a rush are you in? Also, how far north of Vegas is their place?”
I decided to answer the questions in reverse order. “It’s not that far, just on the north edge. It’s up Decatur, if you know the area.”
“I do, and that’s good news, I think. That’s close to the shooting range. It would be good to go through there; we might get lucky. They always sold range ammo in those places.”
“That sounds fine,” I agreed. “Aside from that, if you have places in mind that you want to check on, let’s do that. Just about anywhere you’d want to go would be on the way to my folks’ place. We might as well handle your scavenging on the way.”
“Okay, deal,” said Billy. “So let’s run through the gear you have so we can figure out what you need. Put a shopping list together, see?”
“Right. So with this trailer, I have the rifle and the ammunition that goes with it, obviously. Then I have the canned food, the MREs, and the protein bars and those water jugs, there. Spare clothes with jeans, sweater, some socks, and underwear. I have this little flashlight here with some extra double A’s to go with it. Aaaand, I guess all that’s left is the sleeping bag, hatchet, and the pistol with however many rounds are in that box.”
Billy didn’t say anything for a few moments after I finished speaking. He just stood there next to me with his hands on his hips, staring at the open flap of the bike trailer, and nodding.
“What?” I prompted.
“Oh, it’s fine,” he said, making a shooing motion at me with his left hand. “You’re missing some important items, but you kind of make up for your lack of gear with this trailer thing. I don’t know why the hell I didn’t think of it; it’s pretty smart. We’ll keep our eyes open to round out your kit. There should be plenty of room to carry it all, I think.”
“Well, what am I missing?” I asked. “I know there could probably be more food, but the gear seems pretty okay.”
“Okay, where’s your trauma kit?”
“Uh…” I hesitated. “You mean like first aid?”
“No, I mean like trauma. First aid kits are good for sprained ankles and paper cuts. I’m talking about a serious trauma kit. Kind of thing you can use to treat gunshots or sucking chest wounds.”
“I wasn’t aware there was a difference, but I don’t have either anyway.”
“Yap,” Billy agreed. “Either way, we’ll keep our eyes open and find you something—either ready-made or we’ll get some stuff together to cover all the bases. We need to beef up some other things as well. You and I could probably both use a tent if we can find something small enough to haul around. We’ll get you a rain fly at the least. We’ll want fire-making tools, a good knife for you, and some better clothes for when the weather goes to shit. We’ll see if we can find some medicine like Tylenol, Aspirin; if we get really lucky, we can find some antibiotics, maybe.”
He trailed off as he saw me staring at him while he rattled off the list. “Will we be able to haul all that?” I said.
“Just trust me,” he said. “You keep your eyes open for anything that might be useful. No one is making new stuff anymore, Whitey, and if you find yourself needful of something you can’t just pop off down to the store to get it. Most things have been picked over already so we’ll get lucky to find even half of what we’d like. You’ll see. The new basis of short-term survival is going to be defined by our ability to loot like it’s 1992.”
“Short-term survival, huh? What will be the basis of long-term survival, then?”
Billy pinned me in place with a sober, serious gaze. “Long-term survival will depend on our ability to wean ourselves from the dependency on that loot.”
The 15 became more clogged with stalled and abandoned vehicles as we came closer to the edge of the city. Weaving my way through became an exercise in patience as I was forced to zig-zag back and forth with the bike trailer. Billy never commented on this; he just patiently moved along next to me. I noticed that his head was always moving. He was always trying to see all directions at the same time, always had his hand on his shotgun. If we got into tight areas where visibility was reduced, he would even hold it in a high ready position (presented out in front of him with the butt down and barrel up on the level with his eyes). Despite his apparent focus on our surroundings, he was still perfectly happy to chit-chat as we made our way in. This was absolutely fine with me as it felt less like he was standing around waiting for me to get a move on, which he was.
“So you were going to explain the superiority of shotguns to me…” I prompted.
“Oh, I don’t think they’re superior,” Billy said. “They’re just the right tool for the job when you’re close-in or in the city. That M4 is outstanding when you need to reach out and touch someone at distance, say four hundred yards or so. You have to aim and take your time, but you can do it reliably with some practice. When you’re in the city, you don’t often get uninterrupted stretches at that distance. Everything becomes a lot closer.”
“Okay,” I said, struggling around a bumper with teeth grinding, “but you’re not spending all your time in cities, right? What happens when you’re out in the open on the road?”
“Everyone that I’ve run into so far has been in a city or on the outskirts of a city. Everyone is gravitating to them doing the same thing we’re doing right now: looking for supplies. You’re the first guy I’ve run into out on the open road. You actually had me sweating a little—I didn’t know you had that rifle, but I knew you had some kind of long gun. I kept waiting for a bullet to hit me. Damned unnerving.”
“Sorry about that,” I muttered. “I guess I could have raised my hand up in a salute or something. Give some kind of indication that I wasn’t out to get you.”