The preacher man came to mind again, sending a shiver through him. He recalled what the man had mouthed to him that day he was going to the hospital. Run for your life. The hair on his arms and neck rose. He was, in fact, now running for his life. He had an overwhelming need to get home and get a weapon, a real weapon. He knew his family kept guns on the farm, be they for shooting coyotes or putting down animals.
What he didn’t know was if they had more than just shotguns. He hoped one of his brothers had an AR15, a Glock, or something with power. He knew people would show up, and after a while they’d stop taking no for an answer. Then the violence would begin.
He looked down at Peggy’s feet and let out a breath. She was wearing boots, not heels. Thank God for small mercies. She’d have been crippled by the time they got to her apartment if it’d been heels. Or he’d have needed to carry her.
“Do you have a gun at the apartment?” Dalton asked quietly.
“I got my daddy’s old .38, but it only has four bullets. I don’t have any more than that,” she said just as quietly. He saw her look nervously around them.
“Good. We can at least have something to use to protect ourselves if we have to,” he said.
“You really think it will come to that? The power just went out, for goodness sakes. It hasn’t even been an hour.” She shook her head.
Dalton looked over at her, but didn’t say a word. She’d just have to see for herself. It was hard for people to comprehend just how panicked humans got when their live were threatened. As they walked, it got darker, but there was still just enough light to see their way. They passed countless people and answered the same way each time they were asked. We don’t know, we don’t have our phones, we’re just out for a walk.
Near eleven, Dalton guessed, they got to Peggy’s apartment. They climbed the stairs quietly, though there were a few people sitting outside, having left their doors open. They walked to her apartment door and she unlocked it.
Stepping into the darkness, Dalton turned on his flashlight.
“Dalton, I’m just going to stay here,” Peggy said quietly.
“What? Are you crazy? You aren’t safe here! In a day or two, people are going to break down your door,” he said, his voice low and harsh.
“I’m not crazy, and I have my daddy’s gun. Your family doesn’t like me, and I really don’t want to go and stay with them.” She wrinkled her nose, threw her purse down on the couch and sat down, her mouth turning down in the stubborn slant he knew so well.
He brought his hands up to his head, and grabbed his hair and pulled. He was trying to stay calm. Anger wouldn’t help. “Peggy, listen. If you don’t come with me, you will die. Please, come with me. It’s the only safe way.” He dropped his hands to his side.
“I think this is all bull cookies. The power will come back on, and if not, the police or the government will make sure we’re safe. I’m fine here, and if I change my mind I’ll come to the farm. But I don’t want to go and I’m not going.” She folded her arms across her chest, her eyes narrowing in challenge.
Dalton stared down at her, torn between anger at her and fear for her. She had no idea, but he couldn’t and wouldn’t carry her out of here. So he took the tire iron out and squatted down in front of her. “Pegs, you’ll die here. And it won’t be pleasant. I don’t care what my family thinks, please come with me.” His hand covered her knee.
She shoved it off and her brows drew together. “I care what your family thinks. I’m not coming. I’ll be fine. I’ve a few friends. I’ll go stay with them, but I’m tired and I’m not moving another step tonight. Go home, Dalton. Go to your farm. I’m a big girl and I can take care of myself.”
The pain in Dalton’s gut reminded him of the time his brother had punched him. He couldn’t understand why she was acting like this. He looked around, then looked back at her. “Can I have one bottle of water?” he asked. He thought she’d say no, but she reached over and pulled out a bottle. She gave it to him, her mouth a straight line. He’d thought she cared about him, trusted him. Why wouldn’t she come?
He shook his head and stood, then put the tire iron back down his pants. He picked up the bag with the poncho and food and sports drink, then turned and walked to the door.
He put his hand on the knob, then looked back, into the darkened room, holding the flashlight low so as not to blind her. “Make sure you lock the door, and get to your friends as soon as you can. Don’t stay here by yourself, Peggy. My home is waiting if or when you want to come. But Peggy, don’t bring anyone else. They won’t be welcome.”
He heard her suck in her breath and harrumph. “Whatever, Dalton. Just go.”
And Dalton turned and walked out the door. He walked down the steps and around the people sitting there. He didn’t look at them but kept walking. It would take him a couple days to get home. He shook his head again. He really couldn’t figure Peggy out. Why hadn’t she come with him? Hadn’t she believed him? Couldn’t she see with her eyes what was going on? He couldn’t say, but he wasn’t going to beg her to come. He wasn’t going to force her to come. Life was going to get hard and he felt sorry for her, but perhaps, she was one of the stupid ones. Perhaps he was better off without her.
Harley turned on the windshield wipers. It was starting to rain. He was in Emerson, NC, almost home from being gone three days. He was trying to beat the rain home. He really didn’t like driving in it. The forecast had called for heavy thundershowers.
All at once, his car died. Everything stopped: music, lights, windshield wipers. Then something big hit him from behind and his body slammed into the steering wheel. The airbag didn’t deploy, his brain screamed before he was knocked senseless.
He came to when he heard knocking on his window. He looked up for a moment. A man standing there at the window. He was knocking, but Harley didn’t know why. He tried to focus, but his face hurt so bad. His vision began to turn black around the edges, then went completely dark.
He wasn’t sure what woke him later. It was dark out, rain coming down in torrents. Lightning flashed, the brilliant light sending pain shooting into his brain. His ears rang as though he’d just come from a concert. He unbuckled the seat belt and laid his body across the seat. His face throbbed with each heartbeat. In the brief flash he’d seen the cars around him, stopped. He didn’t understand, but he wasn’t getting out into that driving rain.
He slept fitfully through the night, coming awake whenever he moved his head. I must have broken my nose. Why didn’t the airbag deploy? He fell back to sleep as the rain lessened. He wasn’t sure what woke him, but when he opened his eyes it was somewhat light out. He sat up and immediately regretted it. He tried to open his door, but it wouldn’t open, so he vomited on the passenger’s side floor.
He brought a shaking hand up to his mouth to wipe the foulness off, then reached for his water bottle and took a drink. He nearly heaved it up, but kept swallowing. He swallowed and swallowed. He took another mouthful and swished it around in his mouth, then spat it on the floor.
His head was hurting and his ears were ringing. He turned to the door and tried to open it, but it was locked. He clicked the button, but nothing happened. He thought about hitting it with his weapon, the FN Herstal, but thought better of it. He looked around in the car and saw a wrench on the back floorboard. The kids must have been playing in his tools again. He smiled.
He grabbed it and scooted away from his window. Covered his face, careful of his nose, he shattered the glass with a sharp swing. He took the wrench and raked it across the bottom of the window so he wouldn’t get cut crawling out. He opened the glovebox, pulled out the box of bullets he kept there and put them in his coat pocket.