World War III (8 page)

I know I locked that.

Casey grabbed hold of the door and started to open it, wondering if someone had broken in. The door to the trailer was only a few inches open when he heard several people start shouting, “Take cover! Everyone needs to get to shelter, NOW!”

It didn’t appear that anything in the front of the trailer had been disturbed and that’s where he kept some of the most valuable merchandise, his top sellers. He noticed an odd smell that he couldn’t quite place but decided to investigate later. After all, his merchandise wouldn’t do him any good if he wasn’t alive to trade.

Casey slammed the trailer and fastened the lock, before turning and running for the driver-side door. Expecting nuclear bombs to rain down at any moment, he quickly scrambled up into the cab. He needed to get out of there, and fast!

Casey turned the key in the ignition and the engine roared to life. As he put the truck in gear and sped out of town he passed dozens of people on the side of the road. Everyone seemed excited, pointing towards the sky in the direction that the missiles had gone. If he didn’t know better, Casey would’ve thought they were watching a game or something.

What fools! Don’t they realize if there’s a counter-strike they’ll be sitting ducks!

*******

Casey had been driving for a couple of hours when he finally decided to pull over for the night. Although he’d been watching the sky continuously, he’d seen no sign of incoming missiles. Maybe he’d overreacted and there’d be no counter-strike, or maybe the enemy didn’t have any nukes left to launch. Casey doubted the latter option. Surely any country with nuclear weapons would have an ample stockpile. So why hadn’t they fired another round of missiles? Unless…could it be that they planned to invade the United States and preferred to destroy as little of the natural resources as possible?

He settled down in the back of the cab with the same book from before, but before he’d finished reading a page, something in the back of the trailer made a sound. He was about to go and investigate, when he remembered the two chickens that the little girl had given him. They were probably just moving around and making a little noise. He settled back into the book, but before he could finish reading a paragraph he heard another noise. Only this time it didn’t sound like a chicken, it sounded larger, much larger.

The hair on the back of Casey’s neck stood up, as he reached under his pillow. He withdrew a revolver and cocked the hammer, which made an eerie click in the otherwise silent night. As Casey opened the driver’s side door and climbed down from the cab, he remembered the padlock being open when he returned from his meal. Could someone have possibly picked the lock and climbed inside?

Casey walked towards the back of the trailer and stopped about halfway there. He pressed his ear against the cold, metal siding and listened. At first he heard nothing, but then after a moment he heard a strange noise. The noise was familiar, but definitely not the type of sound that chickens would make. What worried him the most was that it didn’t sound human either.

Casey glanced down at the revolver in his hand and briefly wondered if he should’ve selected a larger weapon, perhaps a shotgun or something with more kick. As he continued to listen, he could hear clicking coming from the chicken’s talons, as they walked around the trailer.

Well, whatever’s in there hasn’t killed the chickens, at least not yet.

Casey took that as a good sign and continued to slowly walk to the end of the trailer. He pulled the keys out of his pocket, trying to make as little noise as possible, and unfastened the padlock. He could feel his palms becoming sweaty, as he took hold of one of the doors. With a deep breath, he swung the door open and peered into the darkness, the revolver gripped tight in his hand.

“Hello?” Casey called into the ominous void.

No answer.

He reached up and grabbed hold of the railing with one hand and hoisted himself up, keeping his gun hand free. He quickly reached into the darkness and flipped a switch, instantly illuminating the trailer with colorful Christmas lights.

The two chickens that Sandy had given him in exchange for the medicine walked towards Casey, as if they expected him to feed them. But what startled Casey was that the two chickens had somehow transformed into dozens.

“What in the…?”

“Maa-Maa!!!”

Casey had taken several steps into the trailer, when he heard the sound coming from a large crate behind him and to his right. He spun around, lifting the gun as he did.

“Maa-Maa!!!”

God only knew what kind of creature was making the noise. Casey was tempted to simply shoot into the crate without looking first, but caution got the better of him. With the gun held ready, he took hold of the crate’s cover and lifted. The crate, which was about five feet squared, creaked as he opened the lid. Peering inside, he was shocked and taken off guard by what he found.

“Oh my God!” said Casey, thanking the Lord for staying his hand and not firing blindly into the crate. Staring up at him were two sets of the most innocent eyes ever.

“Hi mister,” said Sandy, with a big grin. Her lips and tongue were stained blue from the candy that Casey had given her. In her lap rested a young woman’s head, the most beautiful woman that Casey had ever seen. She had dark brown hair and thick, full lips. Her petite body was curled up in the crate and she was breathing heavy. Her brow beaded with sweat and she shook with a fever. Casey immediately realized that she must be the sick mother that he’d heard of.

On his knees beside the goat, Sam looked up at Casey and said, “Sorry mister, we didn’t know where else to go.”

“How did you…?”

“I picked the lock,” answered Sam, without needing to hear the remainder of the question.

“Why?” asked Casey.

“Cause he was gonna hurt our mama,” said Sandy, brushing her fingers through her mother’s soft hair.

“Who was gonna hurt your mom?”

“His name is Jayson,” said Sam, climbing to his feet. “He owns a bunch of the tents at the park where we met you.”

“And why would he want to hurt your mother?” asked Casey, reaching down and lifting the boy out of the crate, followed by his goat.

“Cause he also owns our house,” replied Sam. “And we haven’t been able to make payments for almost a month now.”

“He said he was gonna take mommy away and make her work it off,” cried Sandy.

“There, there child,” said Casey softly, patting the top of her head, “everything is gonna be okay. Come on, let me help you out of there,” he added, extending his hands towards Sandy.

“Okay,” she sniffled, and gently crawled out from under her sleeping mother’s head.

Casey lifted her out of the crate and reached into his pocket for a piece of candy. He handed it to Sandy who accepted it with a smile. Only this time instead of popping it into her mouth right away, she held onto it, her tiny fingers playing with the edges of the wrapper.

“So,” said Casey, looking down at Sam, “what’s so bad about this Jayson guy wanting to give your mom a job to pay the rent?”

“It’s the type of job,” explained Sam, looking protectively at his younger sister. “Besides owning our house and a few others, he also owns a lot of the tents in the market,” he repeated, as if the words should carry some deeper meaning.

“So?”

“Including the tent with the fancy curtains and the neon sign,” Sam whispered softly so that Sandy couldn’t hear.

“Oh, I see,” said Casey nodding his head. “So you thought you’d just run away?”

“He said he was coming back for our mom tomorrow and putting her to work, whether she was healthy or not!” exclaimed Sam. “And I’m not strong enough to stop him,” he added, looking shamefully at the floor of the trailer.

“Apparently your strong enough to carry your mom into my trailer,” said Casey, trying to cheer the boy up.

“I used a wheel barrel,” admitted Sam.

“I helped too!” added Sandy, her tears all but gone.

“That’s right,” agreed Sam. “Sandy helped a lot. I couldn’t have done it without her.” He added the last part for his sister’s benefit. Sandy grinned and gingerly began to open the candy wrapper.

“It takes a big man to rescue his mother and sister,” observed Casey, “especially from the type of man this Jayson fellow appears to be. I think you did alright son,” he added, patting Sam on the back. “Now tell me, why did you choose to climb into the back of my truck? Don’t you have any friends back in Olympia that could help?”

“Not really,” said Sam.

“No one like you mister,” added Sandy.

“What do you mean, ‘no one like me’?”

“She means that…well…you’re the only person who’s ever been kind to us. Everyone else in town is always trying to take advantage of us because we’re just kids and mom’s been sick for a few weeks now.”

“You treated us fair and you’re nice,” chimed Sandy, her mouth full of candy.

“That’s right mister,” agreed Sam. “You and I both know that the medicine you gave us is worth a lot more than two lousy chickens.”

“Hey!” protested Sandy, holding one of the chickens in her arms and caressing its back, while it struggled to free itself from her loving embrace.

“It’s true,” said Sam, “and he knows it!” Sam pointed an accusing finger up at Casey.

“So because I was extra nice, you figured to return the favor by becoming stowaways on my truck?”

“Yep,” giggled Sandy.

“Something like that,” agreed Sam. “We weren’t trying to cause you any trouble mister. We just needed to get out of town and hide our mother before Jayson came back. She’s too weak to defend herself,” he added, looking down at her fragile, shivering body.

“Can you help us mister, please?” Sandy was far too cute to even consider refusing.

“Of course,” agreed Casey. “The first thing we need to do is move her into the cab where she’ll be more comfortable and I can control the heat. Are these all of your belongings?” he asked, pointing to a couple of small duffle bags at the bottom of the crate.

“Yeah,” answered Sam. “It’s all we had time to grab.”

“Alright, here,” said Casey, lifting the duffle bags out of the crate and handing them to Sandy, “you carry these.” The bags were full of clothes and light enough for the little girl to handle.

“Okeydokey,” she said, excited to help. Sandy slid the straps of the duffle bags over her shoulders, each bag roughly the same size as her.

“Are you ready?” Casey asked when she appeared to be stable enough to walk.

“Uh-huh,” she nodded.

Casey smiled and then reached down and lifted the mother into his arms, carrying her like a baby. “Alright kids, follow me. Sam you close the door behind us and lock it. I’m sure you can handle that since you were able to un-lock it easy enough,” teased Casey with a wink.

When they reached the cab, Sam quickly opened the door and climbed up. He turned around and helped Casey lift his mother inside. Before climbing up himself, Casey bent down and lifted Sandy and the duffle bags up into the cab. After lying the mother down on his bed and covering her with warm blankets, Casey quickly set about making some hot soup.

“When is the last time you kids ate?” he asked after a few minutes.

“The day before yesterday,” said Sandy, staring hungrily at the pot of soup.

“Here ya go.” Casey handed her a bowl of steaming soup. “How many of those pills have you given to your mother?” he asked, referring to the medicine that he’d given the children.

“Just one so far,” said Sam, anxiously accepting the bowl of soup that Casey handed him.

“How long ago did you give it to her?”

Sam glanced at the digital clock on the truck’s dashboard and said, “Over ten hours ago.”

“It’s time for another one,” said Casey, taking the pills and retrieving a bottle of water from under the passenger seat. He crawled into the back of the cab and closed the separating curtain, leaving the children eating happily in the front seat. He sat down on the bed next to the children’s mother and gently lifted her so that she was sitting upright, leaning against his shoulder.

“Wake up,” said Casey softly, “it’s time for your medicine.”

The woman’s eyelids fluttered open and she looked up at Casey. “Who, who are you?” she asked, in a parched voice, her eyes wide with alarm. “Where are my children?”

“My name is Casey Cooper,” he said. “Your children brought you to me.”

“Sandy! Sam!” The woman tried to rise, but instead sank back down. She barely had the strength to sit up straight, let alone move.

“It’s okay,” said Casey, reassuringly. “Your children are here too, safe and sound.” Casey reached forward and pulled the curtain back, revealing the two blonde haired children sitting in the front seat, each with a bowl of hot soup.

“Thank God,” moaned the woman and Casey could feel her body relax in his arms. “How did they get me here?”

“I’m not exactly sure,” answered Casey, “but from what I understand, a wheel barrel had something to do with it.”

“A wheel barrel,” she repeated the words as though she didn’t understand their meaning.