The day after: An apocalyptic morning (39 page)

              "I got somebody coming towards the wall," Jack told Jeff, his partner on guard duty that night.

              They were in the top story of the house that served as the guard position for the northern wall, one of the most active for stragglers, as they were called. The shift had just begun and there was still enough light out to be able to see. They were twenty yards from the wall. On the other side of it were low, rolling hills that were studded with pine trees and scrub brush. Emerging from a group of trees was a filthy, emaciated man wearing muddy clothing and carrying a hunting rifle. He was looking at the wall and the houses behind them as if he had never seen such a thing before.

              "Let me see," Jeff said. He had been lying on the bed staring at the ceiling, leaving lookout duty to his younger companion. He pulled himself off it and picked up a pair of binoculars, aiming at the window. "Yep," he said. "Another straggler all right. Pathetic looking piece of shit, ain't he?"

              Jack didn't answer. Instead, he dropped his own binoculars and picked up his rifle. It was a Winchester, scoped hunting rifle, not the M-16 that he had learned to love, but he had learned over the past few days to shoot it with precision. Not that shooting with precision was all that hard to do with such a gun. You simply placed the crosshairs where you wanted the bullet to go and it went there. And deer hunters had called it sporting when they shot defenseless animals with such things.

              "He don't look like he has the energy to climb the fuckin wall anyway," Jeff commented, continuing to watch the man as he stood in place. "Why do we even worry about people like that?"

              "Because they're desperate," Jack said, putting the rifle to his shoulder and training it out the open window. "A couple of people like that tried to kill us when we were out there."

              "So you say," Jeff said, putting the binoculars down. He yawned and then picked up the walkie-talkie that was sitting on a nightstand. He keyed the microphone and spoke into it. "This is Jeff at position three. We got a straggler near the wall. He looks pretty pathetic. We're keeping an eye on him."

              "Copy that, post three," came Skip's voice from the speaker. "Is he armed?"

              "Yeah, dude," Jeff replied, bored. "He's packin' a rifle."

              "Copy. Keep me updated."

              "Yeah," Jeff said into the radio before throwing it back down. "I got your fuckin update right here, dickwad," he said, grabbing his crotch a few times.

              Jack, hearing this, said nothing though inside he was fuming at the insulting tone towards Skip. He was used to such comments however. It was a sentiment that he had heard a lot of while pulling guard duty the last few days.

              "So what's he doin now?" Jeff asked, sitting back down on the bed.

              "Still just standing there," Jack replied, watching him carefully through the scope. The man was looking back and forth along the wall, an expression of wonder on his face. Finally, he seemed to come to some sort of decision. He began to walk towards it.

              "He's moving in," Jack said. "I'm gonna drive him off."

              "I'm down with it," Jeff replied, picking up the radio and relaying this information to Skip.

              Jack shifted the sight from the man's body to a mound of dirt about ten feet in front of him. He took a deep breath, held it, and then squeezed the trigger, feeling the sharp kick of the rifle against him. The sound was much different than that produced by the M-16. It was deeper and louder, not so much a crack as a boom. The bullet hit right where he had aimed, sending up a little spray of mud and water. The hunter did not seem to notice the bullet impact at all but he noticed the sound when it reached him. He jumped in fright, looking everywhere at once.

              "Did that do it?" Jeff asked as Jack jacked in another .30 caliber bullet.

              "No," he said, taking aim again. "He's just standing there, looking around."

              "Idiot," Jeff mumbled. He then reported this development to Skip.

              When the man stepped towards the wall again, Jack pulled the trigger again, this time sending the bullet into the ground about five feet in front of him. He saw the impact this time and immediately turned and sprinted back the way he had come.

              "He's running north into the trees," Jack reported, tracking him with the scope as he went. "Looks like that might've done it."

              "Another job well done," Jeff said cynically. He reported the success of the driving off operation to Skip and then answered a few questions as to direction of travel that he was asked. Finally he threw the radio back down again. "What does he wanna know all that shit for?" he asked Jack. "I mean, the guy ran away. What fuckin' difference does it make where he ran to?"

              "I think he's worried that he might try to go around and try another approach," Jack said. "You know, a flanking maneuver?"

              "Fuckin' flanking maneuver," he said, shaking his head sadly. "You've been hanging out with him too damn long, dude. You're startin' to talk like him. You need to loosen up a little."

              "He's just trying to keep you alive," Jack told him. "You could be a little grateful for it."

              "He's trying to keep me celibate is what he's doing. We were getting along just fine without him. We'd get along just fine without him now." He reached into his pocket and pulled out his cigarette pack. "Come on, dude, let's loosen ourselves up." He pulled a joint from the box. "Let's burn one."

              Jack looked at the joint. "Not on guard duty," he said. "That's against the rules."

              "Fuck the rules," he said, pulling out a lighter. "There ain't no rules anymore anyway. That's the advantage of having a fuckin comet crash into your planet. It kills a lot of people but it kills the rules too. I'm gonna burn." He lit the joint and took a tremendous hit. He then tried to pass it to Jack.

              "No," Jack said firmly. "We're on guard duty, Jeff. We're supposed to be watching for people."

              "Fuckin' pussy," Jeff squeaked contemptuously. He tapped the ash on the floor and then took another hit. "You keep watchin for those scrungy lowlifes. I'm gonna make the most of what we got."

              He smoked the joint until it was about half gone and then carefully extinguished it and placed it on the end table next to the walkie-talkie. Jack, though disgusted by his actions, made no further comments. He simply kept watch as the light finally gave up its hold on the sky, bringing on the darkness.

              "I don't know why we have to stay up here once its dark," Jeff said. "We can't see shit anyway."

              "In case the perimeter guards find something," Jack told him, continuing to stare out into the darkness. "Then we're in position to cover them."

              "Nobody's gonna try and get in after dark," Jeff scoffed. "You have to be able see to invade."

              "Skip got in after dark, didn't he?"

              "But he's a fuckin maniac. No one else would try something like that."

              "He is not a maniac!" Jack yelled, turning towards the sound of Jeff's voice. "Don't talk about him that way!"

              "Hey, fuck off, little dude or I'll break your fuckin nose for you. Don't think I won't!"

              Fuming, Jack turned his attention back outside. Like his sister, he was of the firm opinion that they had been better off when they had been living out there. Outside he had been an important member of a team; a member of a fighting squad that had battled armed men and come out the better. In here he was treated as a child, not just by people like Jeff, who was little more than a child himself, but by damn near everyone. The women all called him cute and tussled his hair when they saw him. A few had even been known to pinch his cheeks like visiting aunts at family holidays. They seemed to think that they way to Skip's heart was by treating his younger companion in a motherly way. As for the men, they treated him with indifference at best, with subtle hostility at worst now that Skip's unpopular guard duty decree was up and rolling in full force. Some, lacking the courage to confront Skip directly, had chosen him as the channel with which to pass along their displeasure with the new security chief. "Tell your friend that he can be voted out just as easily as he was voted in," he had been told more than once. He had learned quickly not to respond to these requests by suggesting they tell Skip that information themselves. That generally just made them threaten him in some way.

              Not wanting to be seen as a fink or a crybaby, he had not complained to Skip about any of these attitudes, nor had he passed on any of the messages he was given. But sometimes, like now as he was sitting on guard detail with Jeff whining at him about how unfair it all was, he wished that they would vote Skip out. At least then things could go back to the way they had been.

              For the next hour, things were quiet in the guard post. There was no conversation of any kind, nor were there any reports from the walkie-talkie. Jack kept watch over the blackness outside and Jeff maintained his position of repose on the bed, occasionally smoking a cigarette or unleashing a loud fart. It was the sound of footsteps approaching that finally broke the monotony.

              "Someone's out there," Jack said, picking up his rifle.

              "Just chill, little dude," Jeff told him, the squeak of bedsprings indicating he was getting up. "It's just a visitor that I've arranged."

              "A visitor?"

              "This all-male guard team bites the big one. I've invited over someone who will be a little bit better company than your skinny ass on these long nights."

              "You did what?"

              "Hello?" came a soft voice from downstairs. Jack recognized it as belonging to Missy, the woman that had caused the ongoing fight between Christine and Skip. "Is anyone here?"

              "Up here, baby," Jeff called down. "You know where we're at."

              "Jeff," Jack hissed. "You know we're not allowed to have visitors at post. Skip made that clear to us!"

              "Skip's not gonna find out about it though, is he?" he said menacingly.

              "What if comes out here?"

              "I'll take my chances on that," he said. "You just keep your fuckin' mouth shut after you get home or you might find yourself a victim of friendly fire next time we're at post together."

              "Jesus," Jack said as he heard Missy's soft footsteps on the stairway. He could see the bobbing beam of a flashlight moving back and forth as she worked her way upward.

              "I mean it, dickwad," Jeff threatened.

              "Hi guys," Missy said with a giggle as she shined the flashlight on the two of them. "What's up?"

              "Turn off that light," Jack yelled at her. "You're spotlighting us for God's sake!"

              "Oh, good idea," she said with another giggle. "Skip might be out there." She clicked it off. "Wouldn't want him to spoil our little party, would we?"

              "Hell no," Jeff said, picking up the half-joint on the table. "Wanna get high, baby?"

              "There's a lot of things I wanna get tonight," she said seductively.

              "And there's a lot of things I wanna give," Jeff assured her. "Come on, let's leave Captain America here to keep a diligent watch. I'll show you the master bedroom. It's real nice."

              "Does it have a nice bed in it?" she asked.

              "Queen sized, baby. Queen sized."

              A moment later they disappeared through the doorway, Missy's flashlight once again lighting their way. With an angry sigh Jack went back to doing his job. Before long the sound of giggles, moans, and grunts began to drift down the hallway accompanied by the squeaking of bedsprings.

              Missy slipped away at about 11:30, just before the change of watch. Jeff came back up shortly afterward, reeking of pot, booze, and sex though in a much better mood than he had been in when he had gone down.

              "Now that," he told Jack in the darkness, "is what post-comet life is all about. Sex, drugs, and more sex. I'm tellin' you, that bitch knows how to fuck. And she can slob the old knob with the best of 'em. I might just dump Carrie to the sideline and have Missy move in with me instead. That kinda poontang I can handle every night."

              Jack did not favor this with a reply, he simply kept staring out into the darkness, looking and listening for intruders. Thirty minutes later, when the clock struck midnight, Rob Handy, who had been in Garden Hill cleaning a swimming pool when the impact occurred, relieved Jeff. Jack, as usual, was scheduled for a double shift, until 6:00 AM. After one last gentle threat to Jack to keep his mouth shut about what had happened, Jeff headed back to his assigned house. Ten minutes later, after a few condescending comments, Rob was sound asleep and snoring on the bed. With another sigh, Jack maintained his watch.