Heckel Casey (6 page)

"All right, now we have a big problem," I said nervously. "We need to run…and fast."

"No," Leonard said. "I make my stand here. I'm tired of running from her."

"You're not John Wayne. You don't need to do this. Come on. We can run down that side street where Jerky went. All we need to do is…"

Leonard slowly slid his pack off his back. "I don't know what she meant exactly about you getting any more powerful, but I have a good idea. I've seen that you have some sort of powers or…whatever. Maybe you are meant to stop her or something, turn things around. Beats the shit out of me. All I know is that there's something in you powerful and she's afraid of it. Maybe it was pre-ordained that I save you. Maybe that's why we found each other."

"Leonard, this is nuts. Come on. Let's go now."

As I tried to pull his arm, my eyes became fixated on Madeline's arm. She slowly raised it and pointed. The dogs surged forward like they had heard a starter's pistol go off at a dog race.

Leonard pushed me and yelled, "Run. Follow Jerky. That cat is a guardian. I know it. Don't lose her." With all his strength, he ran toward Madeline.

Regaining my balance, I took off in the direction of Jerky, down a dark alley. A loud meow immediately gained my attention and I sprinted toward it. Jerky pounced out of the dark and raced in front of me. Behind me, the sound was horrifying and made my blood chill. Mixed with the snarling and barking, I heard Leonard's screams. I choked up and momentarily stopped to look toward the shrieks. A little voice in my head, you know the one that proudly declares itself the emotional one, hollered for me to go back and help him. However, the rational voice that carries the banner of survival disagreed. It felt like I had a little red-cloaked devil with a pitchfork on my one shoulder and a harp-playing angel on the other. As I looked at my shoulder with the devil, I imagined it morphing into Madeline. That scared the shit out of me. Jerky was at my leg and sunk her claws into my calf. The small prick was enough to snap me out of it and I started running farther down the dark alley with her leading the way.

The cat miraculously led me out of the city, out into a small grove of trees. I stopped to rest and catch my breath. Jerky nuzzled up to my leg and purred, but on each turn she would look back to the town. After about twenty minutes, she started walking and I followed. By now it was dark. A large orange orb was inching its way up the horizon to peek over the trees. "I love those harvest moons," I muttered to Jerky. A little while longer and the moon gave us some traveling light.

"Don't get too far ahead of me," I said, feeling comfort from the cat.

A half hour passed and we came to a clearing. Slightly off to one side, I could see a small farmhouse. I stopped and froze. My feet wanted to slide backward away from the eerie sight. A lawn in front of the whitewashed house was studded with crosses of various heights. Some looked like spears with pointy ends ready to impale intruders. "Maybe we should go around this place," I said softly to Jerky. The cat ignored me and kept moving. "Jerky, no." She picked her way through the crosses.

A noise behind broke my fear. It heightened and directed a whole new set of panic. Snarling close by could mean only one thing. The dogs found me. I couldn't see anything, but I could hear them. As I looked into the nearby trees, three sets of eyes reflected the harvest moon's illumination. I started to run into the front yard, hoping to find refuge in the farmhouse. One of the dogs nipped at my heel. I could feel its warm breath on my leg. An earsplitting gunshot resonated, echoing across the yard. I heard a thump as the dog hit the ground behind me. I looked around to see another dog lunge toward me. Quickly, I grabbed one of the pointy, cross-like spears and thrust it at the oncoming dog. Its jaws snapped at me as I skewered it. Blood spurted out and covered my face.

"In here," I heard someone yell as another gunshot rang out, followed by a yelp from the attacking dog.

I stumbled over one of the crosses, and scrambled to regain my footing. Another gunshot hit its mark as I made it to the front porch. Standing at the door was a tall, slender woman taking aim with a 30-0-6 rifle, complete with infrared scope. "Duck," she hollered, squeezing off one last shot. I dropped to the floor and covered my ears.

Chapter 6

After several minutes of silence, she said, "I think we got them all. Come inside, quickly," she ordered, holding open the front door.

As I practically leapt through the entrance, the first thing I noticed was Jerky sitting on top of a couch, grooming herself. The room was bathed in soft candlelight. "Well, well, well…hmm…looks like someone is making herself at home."

"Is this your cat?" the woman asked as she slid a large metal bar across the door.

"Yes, her name is Jerky and she has a way with people," I said with an apologetic tone. I walked over to the cat, petted her and put out my finger for her to scratch her nose. She purred contentedly.

The woman continued to close metal shutters on each of the windows on the front of the house.

"Thanks for…um…saving my butt out there," I said softly. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

"Nope," the woman replied. She set the 30-0-6 next to the front door. I noticed that she had two Glocks tucked under her belt as well as a large hunting knife strapped to her thigh. As I watched her busy herself securing the little farmhouse, a memory flashed across my mind of how following the Bloody Super Bowl, people gradually started to arm themselves. During that summer of mass insanity there were gunfights and murders left and right. It felt like we were back in the days of the old West where everyone packed a six-shooter. Anarchy marched its way across the continents with guns blazing.

"My name is Heckel. Heckel Casey."

The woman remained silent.

So, now I got nervous.
Had I walked into a crazy woman's house or was she someone who was just extra cautious?
Jerky seemed relaxed, not troubled and she was like a warning beacon. Still, the hairs on the back of my neck bristled and my defenses went up.

Finally, after the long awkward silence, the woman came up to me, looked me up and down and smiled. "Sorry about that…I stay pretty focused when I'm securing the house. I've stayed alive this long by being sharp and watching my back." The woman offered her hand. "My name is Sela Strand. I am happy to meet you. I didn't mean to appear rude."

"That's okay. These days one can't be too cautious. I don't blame you," I said, shaking her hand. "Say, you're a damn good shot with that rifle."

"And I can thank my father for that. I grew up on this farm and he taught me how to handle a rifle. I had lots of practice hunting."

"Well, he was a good teacher," I said as I looked at my mud-soaked hands.

"Come over into the kitchen. Your face is covered in blood."

I winked at Jerky who ignored me and followed Sela into the kitchen. I immediately noticed that the back door was fortified much like the front. She lit a candle and placed it close to a sink. A large old metal pump protruded from the top of the sink.

"Just pump your water with this," she said motioning to the wooden handle. She then went over to a small pantry and pulled out several cans of food. "Are you hungry?"

"I've been hungry for over a year."

"Yeah, I know what you mean. Ever since this shit started, it's been one long hunt for food to stay alive."

The water was cold, but it felt refreshing. I rinsed off the blood from my face and hands as well as a few days of dirt and grime. She handed me a large, soft towel. As I finished drying off, I watched her open the cans. Sela was a very attractive woman, standing well over six feet, I figured. She had dark-red hair set in a braid that hung to the middle of her back. It was the combination of her smile and the way it made her green eyes light up that really grabbed my attention. I tried not to stare.

"Are you all right?" she asked.

"Oh, yes...eh…just fine," I stammered. "I was just thinking about how lucky I was to…um…run into you. If you and your rifle hadn't helped me out, I'd be dog food by now."

"Hmm, I think you better also thank your cat. What was its name again?"

"Jerky."

"Well, Jerky practically loaded the rifle for me after I let her in the front door. She was extremely persistent. I've never seen a cat act like that."

As if on cue, Jerky pranced into the kitchen, acting as though she were taking a bow. I reached down to pet her, but she just strolled over to Sela, walked around her leg and purred.

"Looks like someone knows she did good. Let's see if I can find a reward," Sela said, looking into the pantry. "Ah, her we go…a nice can of tuna. How does that sound?"

Jerky purred louder and swished her large, fluffy tail.

"Is there anything I can do to help?" I asked, folding the towel and setting it on the counter.

"Actually, if you could make a fire, I'd really appreciate it. I'll bring dinner in and we can eat in front of the fireplace."

"Is it safe to have a fire? I haven't had one in months."

"Yes, no problem. No one has passed through here in a long time. And besides, I'm pretty well fortified. All those crosses and spears pretty much scare people away. They get the idea that a lunatic lives here or something," she said faking a demented grin.

"Ya, I know what you mean. When I first spotted your front yard, I was ready to go around your place."

"There's kindling and old papers next to the wood bin," she said opening another can.

"Great. One fire coming up."

"There are some matches in a tin on the mantle," she offered, as I walked out of the kitchen.

Within minutes, I had a modest-sized fire going. The warmth emanating from the logs felt so good. My bones shouted in joy.

"I could warm this up if you'd like," Sela said, setting two plates down on a coffee table.

I turned around and told her it wasn't necessary. "I'm so hungry I could eat dog food right about now."

"I've had that," Sela commented.

"Well, so have I. In a pinch, it's not bad, especially if it's warmed up. Tastes like stew. Is this dog food?"

Laughing, Sela said, "No, it's Dinty Moore stew. I was lucky about four months ago and found several cases of it at an old warehouse up in Des Moines. I bring it out on special occasions."

As I sat down on the couch, I picked up a whiff of Sela's perfume or body wash or whatever. Actually, maybe it was just her natural fragrance. At any rate, it smelled wonderful to the point I almost forgot the plate of food. My pulse quickened slightly.
Get a grip man
, I thought.
This woman just saved your life. Be a gentleman and keep the salami between your legs at bay.
Okay, it had been a long time since I had the company of a woman, and I mean that in more ways than just sitting on a couch next to one. I thought back to my last girlfriend and how good the relationship was. Why it didn't last is beyond me. Oh, yeah, now I remember; she dumped me for someone else. All that breakup stuff had happened months before the collapse. Once our civilization began to spiral down into chaos, it was impossible to find a girlfriend and start a relationship. You just couldn't trust anyone and no one trusted you. So, I began a life of forced celibacy. Yuck.

As I shoved a large chunk of stew meat into my mouth and savored the taste, Sela asked me how long I'd been on the road. With a mouthful, I mumbled out that I had been walking for over a year.

"How about you? How long have you been holed up in this farmhouse?"

Sela explained that she had been a lawyer back east and after the summer of insanity, she started her trek out to the family homestead. "The car gave out somewhere I think in Ohio. I tried to find fuel, but a lot of the gas stations had been blown up or depleted of any fuel, not to mention that with no electricity one couldn't get the fuel pumped. So, I abandoned the car and started walking. It took me several months to get out here. My Dad was alive then."

"What happen to your Dad?" I asked tentatively as I scooped up another spoonful of stew.

Sela paused with her spoon in midair and got choked up. She pursed her lips, fighting back her emotions. Jerky jumped up next to her and slipped onto her lap.

"Jerky, get down," I ordered, knowing full well that the cat would ignore me.

"She's fine," Sela said stroking her back as Jerky curled up into a ball. "She's very comforting."

"Yeah, she has that effect on people."

"To answer your question…um…my Dad happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time."

"How so?"

"He made the mistake of going into our little town a few miles down the road without any protection. He forgot his rifle that day. He also didn't tell me he was going. By the time I figured he had left, things had already gone very bad."

"I'm sorry," I said, getting up to put a few more logs on the fire.

Sela went on to explain that she pedaled her old bicycle as fast as she could to go find him. As soon as she got into town, it didn't take long for her to find him.

"A group of men, I guess about four or five, had my Dad tied to a telephone post. They were taking turns throwing a knife at him. He was covered in blood. I screamed at the men to stop. One of them started to run toward me. Instantly, I shot him as well as the other three. I ran to my Dad. He was already dead. I untied him and set him down. His hand was balled up into a fist. I spotted a chain dangling from one end. I opened his hand. A small gold cross on a chain was pressed into his palm," Sela said touching the pendant on her neck. "He must have been getting it for my birthday or something. I sat there and cried for hours before dragging his body to a field. It took me the rest of the afternoon to bury him."