“I hope you have a cork screw.”
She handed it to him and he opened the bottle while she buttered the bread.
“I didn’t think there was food left in any store in town. Where did you buy all of this?” Caden asked.
“We didn’t buy it. The stores are empty. Your father traded two guns, some ammo and a bottle of scotch for a cow and calf.”
“He’s been busy today, but I asked how you got the wine, cheese, bread—everything.”
“Lisa and I traded a gallon of milk and two dozen eggs for the wine and cheese. We made the bread and your mom still had crackers.”
“Where are you doing all this trading?”
“You know that park in front of the Hansen library?”
“Sure,” he said pouring the wine.
“Well, people gather there to barter things. Everyone went today, except Sue, she’s still pretty tired, and we traded for things we need and,” she lifted the wine, “a few things we just wanted.”
Caden noticed a small handwritten label that read, “Please return the bottle when done.” He pointed it out to Maria.
“Yeah, the family that makes the wine said they aren’t sure they can get more bottles, so they’re asking people to return them. They’re going to work out some sort of a discount if you do.”
He smiled as she took a sip of wine and stared into her eyes, marveling at how well and quickly she fit into the family and community that he was only now rediscovering. Maybe we can hold civilization together until things get better. He reached out and touched her hand. “Maybe you and I….”
A soldier burst into the room. “Sir, Lieutenant Brooks sent me to find you.” The man took a deep breath. He thought…you should know…President Durant…he’s placed the state under martial law…and…activated the Guard units.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Caden had little motivation to get out of bed, other than maybe to shoot the rooster. The first rays of morning sun pushed back against the darkness of his bedroom, but he closed his eyes, rolled onto his side and pulled up the blanket. Why not get a few more hours of sleep? No crisis called for his attention this Saturday morning—then he heard the scream.
In an instant he was at the only window of his room. It looked out over the main field of the farm, but he could see little in pre-dawn twilight. He was certain the cry came from outside. Probably from the barn.
He threw on his clothes, grabbed his SIG pistol and hurried downstairs.
His mother stood in the living room, “Trevor and Maria are outside. I think it was Lisa.”
Sue came down the stairs as he ran out the front door. Immediately he spotted his father at the front of the barn and Maria, with a rifle, off to the side. His dad signaled for him to go to the back.
Once there, Caden threw open the rear door, looked left and right and then hurried in. The interior was so dark, he saw almost nothing. Immediately he took cover behind a stack of hay bales to his right and waited an agonizingly long time for his eyes to adjust. The first thing he saw was Maria silhouetted in the open door of a horse stall. With a wave of the arm he signaled her to move and she ducked into the shadows.
Next he saw Lisa. A young man stood behind her. One hand clutched her jacket, the other arm was wrapped around Lisa’s neck like a sleeper hold and so the knife was to the side of her throat. By the position of the knife Caden could tell the assailant was not a trained killer. Beyond those two, near the front of the barn, his father stood in a shooting stance.
Caden tried to maneuver for a clear shoot, but the guy kept turning, using Lisa as a human shield.
“All I want is food! Get me food and I’ll leave!”
“Put the knife down and we’ll get you food,” Trevor said.
“No! I’m not stupid. Get me food or I cut her throat.”
“You cut her throat and I’ll kill you,” Caden replied.
“I’m hungry. All I want is food. The last meal I had was a lousy MRE two days ago. Believe me I’ll kill her.” The man pointed at Trevor with the knife. “You, old man, get me….”
With no knife against her neck, Lisa kicked back hard against the man’s leg and dropped like dead weight.
Trevor fired a single shot.
The man fell backwards and hit the floor with a thud.
Father and daughter ran to each other and embraced. Lisa, cried, “I just wanted to get the eggs and milk for breakfast.” Leaning into her father, between sobs, she continued. “I didn’t think…didn’t bring my gun…he came out of the dark…grabbed me so quickly…I didn’t see him.”
Caden checked for vital signs and, looking to his father, shook his head.
“It’s all right,” he said to Lisa. “If he had just come to the door and asked…maybe….”
Back in the house Caden called and talked briefly to Hoover.
A couple of hours later a single deputy came to the farm. “Do you know his name?” he asked while writing notes in a pad.
“No,” Caden responded.
The officer asked a few more questions as he continued to write. “There have been attacks on other farms, the food bank…any place where there might be food. People are desperate.” There was no mention of any further investigation. The sun was high in the sky before a van from the sheriff’s department came and took the body to the morgue.
Caden stared as the vehicle rumbled away. Death in America has become common…inconsequential. It was not the fact of death that caused him pause; it was the brutality of casual killing. He had seen that in Iraq and Afghanistan, but not in America. Perhaps it had always been there in the poorer, gang-infested, neighborhoods, but he had not seen it until recently and now it came to the barn beside his home and threatened to take his sister. What next, a gunfight in the house? It was a solemn day at the Westmore farm.
The next morning as everyone sat around the breakfast table Lisa asked, “Can we go to church?”
“That’s a good idea,” their mother said.
“And the swap meet,” Maria suggested, “It looks like a nice day to go out.”
“I’ll pack the extra eggs and milk in a cooler,” Lisa added.
“We can’t all go,” his dad said, shaking his head. “Someone needs to stay here on guard until things return to normal.”
Caden wasn’t interested in church. He wanted to say he would stay and guard the farm, but he had a mouth full of pancake.
“I’ll guard this week and go with you next week,” Trevor said.
Sue put her hands on her belly. “I should stay home too. I’m still tired from all the walking we did to get here.” She turned to Maria. “But I will take care of Adam for you.” Maria started to speak, but Sue insisted it was the least she could do.
Caden saw that Maria, Lisa, and his mother really wanted to go. He swallowed his mouthful of pancake and said, “Okay then, let’s make a day of it.”
After breakfast Caden returned to his room to dress for church. He was glad that he had just dumped clothes into his duffle bag, including several nice shirts and ties had been stuffed inside, even a suit. He wondered if his mother had ironed the clothes because they didn’t have the wrinkles he remembered. Did I hang the clothes in the closet? Did I even unpack when I got here? He couldn’t recall.
He put on a pair of slacks, a pastel blue shirt and royal blue tie. As he reached for the suit jacket he stopped. No place to conceal a pistol. In the closet he found a heavy jacket, put it on and then slid the SIG into the inside pocket. From now on I go everywhere armed.
The events of yesterday morning again intruded on his thoughts. The guy could have slit Lisa’s throat and stolen whatever he could find. We wouldn’t have known until later. We do need to keep a guard here. Maybe we should stay in pairs. No, that would be difficult. If we could keep in better contact…. Where are those two GMRS transceivers I bought in West Virginia? As he continued to dress, he looked around the room, but didn’t find the radios.