SurviRal (11 page)

Clint’s last thought was reinforced when a loud commotion of arguing broke out three cars over, towards the middle of the field. That was where one of the campfires was going. Several carloads of people had banded together there, much in the same way Clint, Jenny, and Harold had joined forces with Barry and Shay. Safety in numbers.

“Stay here,” Harold said. He left to go see what was happening.

Several minutes later he returned, shaking his head and muttering to himself. Dusk was falling fast. Harold set up his battery-powered camping lantern on Barry’s small picnic table as the girls broke out the beer and wine.

“So, what was that all about over there?” Clint asked.

“A minor scuffle. Involving guess-who.”

“Our friend Zane?”

“Nailed it. That cat is bad news. Got a little physical. A bit of shoving. Then somebody from the group showed him a rifle. Didn’t point it at him, but they were almost ready to. Didn’t even scare that lunatic. He walked away cursing them.”

Clint suddenly felt dizzy. His heart began racing. He sat down and held his head.

“Hey, you all right, buddy?” Harold sounded concerned.

“Here,” Jenny said sitting down next to him. “Drink your beer, honey. It’ll help.” She looked at Harold as she wrapped her arm around Clint’s shoulder. “He’ll be all right. Give him a couple minutes.”

Chapter Eight

“Feeling better?” Jenny asked.

Clint peered into his near-empty beer bottle. “Yes, thanks.”

“What’s the matter?” Shay asked. “A health problem?”

“No,” Jenny said. “He gets panic attacks sometimes.”

“Oh. My sister gets those. That’s who we’re on our way to see. Going stay with her for a while in Pueblo. Maybe until this whole ferret flu thing is over. Must be awful getting panic attacks. She says they come on for no reason.”

“Clint’s are an involuntary reaction to certain situations.”

“What, like this scenario here?” Barry asked. “Stuck in a park with a bunch of strangers, some of whom are knuckleheads?”

“Kind of,” Jenny said.

Clint noticed everyone looking at him and felt stupid. “It’s not that.”

They all remained silent, apparently waiting on a further explanation. Clint cleared his throat.

“I guess I’ve never gotten over the way my dad died. It shocked me pretty bad. My brother, too. Happened while I was away at college my sophomore year. Jake was a freshman. I still think that’s why he dropped out and joined the forest service. Jake dealt with it better than I did, though. Not sure I would have gotten through it …without you, honey.” He leaned over and kissed Jenny on the cheek.

“Oh,” Shay said, “how sweet. We met in college, too.” She lifted the wine bottle and topped up Jenny’s plastic cup. “If you don’t want to talk about it, Clint, we understand.”

“I never knew any of this,” Harold said. “Sorry, man.”

“Thanks.” But Clint could tell the curiosity was killing Harold.

“My dad was a store owner. Died in the Cincinnati riots.”

“Cincinnati riots?” Shay asked. “Never heard of those.”

“In 2001,” Jenny said sipping her wine. “No one remembers them because 9-11 happened later that same year.”

Barry made a clicking sound with his tongue. “How terrible. Was he killed by rioters? Sorry if the question is inappropriate.”

Jenny shook her head at him.

“Yes and no,” Clint answered. “He died when his store was looted. They found him afterwards, lying in the remains. No injuries. The autopsy showed he had a heart attack.”

Everyone offered their condolences. Harold’s expression turned serious. He seemed to be thinking, and not about pleasant things.

“What’s the matter?” Clint asked him.

“Nothing. Nothing…”

“You’re worried about me, aren’t you? That I’ll be no good in any kind of confrontation, or that I’ll have a heart attack if we come near civil unrest.”

“I must admit the thought crossed my mind.”

“And I must admit your concern is valid. Sorry, neighbor. Hope I don’t become an additional burden. It’s …embarrassing.”

Harold laughed and raised his beer. “It is what it is. We’ll just have to dance with what brung us.”

“I wouldn’t worry too much,” Barry said. “The roads will be open tomorrow. Got enough gas to get where you’re headed? I can probably siphon a little over to you if you need it.”

“We’re set,” Harold replied. “But thanks. That’s a mighty friendly offer, considering the state of the union.”

“Good people should help each other.” Barry pulled the other three beers from the cooler and passed them out.

“Thanks.” Harold glanced at Barry’s car. “I appreciate you throwing those vitamins in on the beer trade. That Zane fellow was probably right about them being valuable trade goods during a pandemic.”

“So is this.” Barry held up his beer. The three men clinked a toast. Clint felt much better.

“Oh, we have a bunch of them,” Shay said. “Would you like a bottle?”

“Bottle of vitamins?”

“Yeah. I’ll grab you one.” Shay stood up, went to the back of their Volvo, and opened the hatch.

Harold stood as well. “Let me give you some beef jerky, then.”

“No.” Barry held up his hand. “Thanks, anyway. We’re both health nuts and don’t eat beef. Don’t worry about it. I have cases of them. They’re my samples. I work for a vitamin distributor. Or at least I did before I was laid off.”

“There’s a lot of that going around,” Clint said.

Shay came back with the vitamins and the five of them chatted well into the evening. Jenny divvied up the half-loaf of bread she stood in line for in Denver this morning. It went good with the jerky. Barry and Shay shared some dried apricots they happened to have with them. Plastic bottles of water were opened to go with the food. Jenny and Shay refilled theirs from the drinking fountain in the park before everyone decided to go to bed.

Because Harold and Barry were both light sleepers, they decided Clint should take the first “watch.” It was only prudent for someone to stay awake and keep an eye on the cars, as well as the personal belongings Barry and Shay had to unload in order to fold their rear seat down for their makeshift bed. Harold would relieve Clint in a couple hours, and then Barry would take the last shift. Barry assured them he would be awake in the wee hours anyway.

“There is one thing that concerns me,” Barry said. “I’d feel better if our perimeter was more …secure.”

“I know what you mean.” Harold scanned their surroundings. “Well, we could move the cars to fence us in better.”

“Sounds like a good idea,” Jenny said.

Harold and Barry adjusted the two wagons so they were back to back, overlapping just a little. They decided it was good enough and everyone but Clint retired to try and sleep.

Clint sat in the comfortable canvas chair he brought along and gazed at the night sky. The smell of campfires was still heavy and the stars were out. He thought about Jake. Jake always liked the stars. Clint checked his cell phone for the twentieth time, but there were still no bars.

Jenny came out of the tent. Clint expected her to come over and kiss him goodnight, but instead she scurried to Harold’s tent and called him. The two of them talked in low voices before Harold got up and walked to his car. He came back with a small vinyl bag and handed it to Jenny. She thanked him and they both went back inside their tents.

Clint could still hear bits and pieces of conversations from the other campers. Not enough to understand the exchanges, but he picked up certain words that gave him the gist of the topics being discussed. Everyone was trying to go somewhere. People were concerned about their own safety, in addition to the safety of the ones they were going to see. Complaints about phones not working were also popular. Clint realized he and Jenny were in the same predicament as everyone else. Barry and Shay, too. They were nice folks. Good thing Clint picked this spot, so they could partner up with them for the night.

Clint caught himself nodding off twice. He eventually decided to move to the picnic table to prevent any further occurrences. Harold got up and relieved him shortly thereafter. He had a book, and turned the lantern back on so he could read.

Inside the tent, Jenny was sleeping lightly. She rustled as Clint found a comfortable position next to her. That’s when he noticed the vinyl bag Harold gave her was partially unzipped. He couldn’t be certain in the dark, but it looked to contain one of Harold’s pistols. Clint wasn’t sure whether that should relax him or make him nervous.

It must have relaxed him, because the next thing he knew it was morning. The sounds of people talking—along with car doors shutting and engines starting—caused his eyes to open and find sunlight.

When he and Jenny crawled out of the tent, Harold was talking to Barry next to his brown Volvo. Barry and Shay were packed up already, and apparently about to leave. Shay waited in the passenger seat. Clint and Jenny approached them.

“Good morning!” Barry said “The roads have reopened. Here.” He held out a piece of paper. Clint took it. There was writing on it.

“That’s the name, address, and phone number of Shay’s sister in Pueblo. If you need anything, or have any trouble travelling, feel free to contact us there. Or, if you happen to find yourself in Pueblo, stop by and visit.”

Shay rolled her window down. “Bye, guys. So nice meeting you. Bye, Jenny. Good luck!”

Clint was still groggy as they said their final goodbyes. He wished he had a cup of coffee. They had a bag of grounds packed away, but no practical way to make it.

Barry got in his car and joined the crowd of vehicles that were all attempting to leave at the same time. He first tried to wedge his way into the line, but then seemed to have an inspired notion. He turned and drove right through the trees to get to the side road, his windshield acquiring a small pine branch in the process. Several other cars then followed his example.

“We might as well wait until this clears out more,” Harold said. “Go ahead and use the bathrooms if you need to. I’ll start packing up.”

Harold had everything loaded when Clint and Jenny returned from the restrooms. The field cleared out fast and was nearly vacant by now. Unsightly patches of burned grass marked the sites of last night’s campfires. One of them was still smoldering.

“Are we ready?” Harold said. He appeared to be in good spirits.

They took one final look around before climbing into the car for the road trip. Clint was hopeful of a reunion with his brother before this day was through. Harold started the engine and put the car in gear.

But then he put in back in park.

“No,” he said. “Dear God, no!”

“What’s wrong?” Clint didn’t like the sudden desperation in Harold’s voice.

Without answering, Harold turned the ignition off, opened his door, jumped out, and ran through the trees towards the road.

“What’s the matter now?” Jenny asked.

“I don’t know. Not car trouble, I hope. Looks like he tried to run after Barry and Shay. Did they leave something behind?”

“Or accidentally take something of ours, maybe?” Jenny asked.

Clint looked at her and tilted his head. She raised her eyebrows. They both got out of the car. Harold had disappeared. The traffic was now thinned out, so the remaining cars were moving freely.

Clint turned to Jenny and made an exaggerated shrug. As he did, he noticed a black Chevy Suburban driving on the field. It parked next to the still-smoldering fire. A well-dressed man got out and stomped on it.

“There he is,” Jenny said, pointing to the trees. Clint turned back around.

Harold was back in view, shaking his head and muttering as he slowly returned.

“I’m so stupid,” he said. “So stupid. We’re screwed. Damn those shysters!”

“What’s the problem?” Clint asked.

“They siphoned us. Took all our gas. We had over three-quarters of a tank. Now on empty!” He walked up to his car and pounded a fist on the hood. “Dammit!”

“Are you sure?” Jenny asked. “How can that be? You guys watched the cars all night, right?”

“Let me see,” Clint said. He came around to the driver’s side, slipped in sideways and turned the key one click to the accessory position. The gas gauge rose only to E and the
need gas
light came on. He cranked the ignition. The car started right up, but the gas reading didn’t change.

“Oh, no.” Clint turned the car off and rested his head on the steering wheel.

Jenny came up next to him. “I don’t understand. Who could have stolen our gas? How could this happen?”

“Our friends,” Harold said. “Barry and Shay. They must have been low.”

“No,” Jenny replied. “No, I don’t believe it. No way it was them. Maybe we punctured the gas tank or something?”

“It was Barry,” Harold said. “Only person it could have been. There’s no gas leak. I saw the gauge when we repositioned the cars last night. There would be a smell, and a puddle under the car.”

“Well then it had to be someone else—like that Zane character, maybe.”

“He’s right, honey.” Clint shook his head. “I remember thinking the position he put his wagon in was a little weird, overlapping the rears like that. It was so the gas caps were lined up.”