Desperate Times Three - Revolution Page 18

  Pops stepped away from the window and scowled. “Good God, man. We need to get you fixed up with a toothbrush. Say, how is it that you woke up and were able to save us all? Were you up using the bathroom or something? That sure was lucky.”

  “I’ve been around danger plenty of times,” Bill said, puffing out his chest. “I can smell it.”

  “But carbon monoxide ain’t got no smell.”

  “I never said I smelled it, only the danger. I’ve got a nose for it, don’t I, Ken?”

  Ken ignored Bill. “Where will we go if we do decide to leave here?”

  “There ain’t no ifs about it,” Pops said, scratching his chin. “We’ve got to go. I hate to say it, but the first thing we got to do is get back on up there to the big house and open it up. There’s some stuff up there that we’re gonna need. For now, I say we head out into the woods and sit a spell. I’ve got a shack out there; it ain’t much, but it’s got a woodstove and it’s miles away from here.”

  “Miles away?” Bill asked, sour-faced.

  “Don’t get your panties in a bunch,” spat Pops. “We’ll be taking the four-wheelers. First, we got to lay in some supplies. You,” Pops said, pointing to the chair that Jimmy was sitting in. “I’m going to need you to come up to the big house with me. Ken, you stay out here with Roger and keep your ears open. Jimmy, you come on up to the house with me.

  “What about me?” Bill asked.

  Jimmy stood up and stretched as Bill’s question fell on deaf ears. Pops pulled out his Colt and opened the door. He stood there, silhouetted in the firelight, scanning the shadows for any sign of trouble. “Let’s move it,” he said, motioning for Jimmy to follow.

  “Wait,” said Julie, from behind the bathroom door. “I’m going with you.”

  “No, you ain’t,” said Pops.

  The bathroom door opened, and Julie strode across the room. “Oh, yes I am.”

  Pops shook his head. “Ugh,” he said, scratching his chin with the barrel of the Colt. “Fine, let’s get the move on.”

  “I think I’ll go with you guys,” Bill said.

  Pops whirled on Bill and pointed at his chest with an arthritic finger. “No, you’ll stay here with Fatboy and Oliver, do you got that? Anything happens to those two mutts and you’ll have hell to pay. Now, sit your fat butt down in that chair!”

  Bill’s eyes grew wide as he put on his nobody-likes-me face. Jimmy turned away and with Julie at his heels walked out the door into the orange blackness. They waited for Pops just outside the door.

  “He’s a royal pain in the ass,” Pops hissed. “Where the hell did you find him?”

  “Jimmy brought him,” Julie said, a sly grin spreading across her face in the firelight.

  “Well, he did save our bacon,” Pops said, leading the way towards the A-frame. “I suppose we should give him his due. The man is like a burr in your saddle, one that keeps digging deeper. You must have the patience of a saint.”

  “He can’t help himself,” Jimmy said, holding Julie’s hand as they followed the old man. “And what he said had some truth to it.”

  “Oh, give me a break,” laughed Julie. “He wouldn’t know the truth if it hit him up alongside the head. He is completely full of shit.”

  “Really?” Jimmy asked, squeezing her hand. “We’d be dead twice by now if it wasn’t for Bill. You can say what you want about him, but you can’t take that away from him.”

  They walked in silence as the crackling fire slowly began to die down. The frame to the bunkhouse was now gone, and dark smoke climbed up into the moonless sky. They started downstairs, holding their noses and opening the windows. Pops dug a fan out of a closet and stuck it just outside the open door. He turned the switch to high, and cool air breathed life back into the house. “There,” Pops said. “That ought to do the trick.”

  They followed Pops into the kitchen where he flipped on the lights. Jimmy could see that Pops was confused by something and followed the old man’s curious gaze to the kitchen counter. The truth hit Jimmy like a pie in the face, and he began to laugh. The kitchen counter was littered with sandwich fixings. Jimmy walked over to the counter for a closer look, still holding Julie’s hand. Julie shook her head and joined in Jimmy’s laughter.

  “Thank God for Bill’s stomach,” she said, picking up an open loaf of bread and twisting the bag closed. “We’d all be dead without it.”

  “This must be what he smelled,” Pops said, a hint of surprise in his voice. “I’ll be damned.”

  A half-eaten Dagwood sandwich sat on a paper napkin, yellow mustard, white mayonnaise, and orange something dripping from between layers of meat, cheese, and lettuce. Jimmy estimated the sandwich to be over six inches thick, and he wondered how Bill had eaten what he had. They began to clean up Bill’s mess. With Pops standing at the refrigerator door, they formed a chain, and the work was soon done. “Don’t touch the sandwich,” Pops had said. “I’m gonna give that back to our hero.”

  Pops produced a large duffel bag and began loading it up with canned foods. Julie found a box in the pantry and began pulling things from the fridge, some of the same things that they had just returned.

  “Do you think that stuff is okay?” Jimmy asked, scratching his head. “What about the carbon monoxide?”

  “Ah,” said Pops from across the room inside the pantry. “Don’t worry about it. Hell, you should have seen some of the dog-shit we was forced to eat over in the Nam. A little gas ain’t gonna hurt nothin’.”

  After they’d finished in the kitchen, Jimmy hefted the duffel, and he and Julie placed the supplies outside the front door. They followed Pops back into the house, and after a dozen or more trips out the door, the old man seemed almost satisfied. “Just one more thing,” he said, his eyes lighting up. “C’mon, let’s crack open the gun cabinet.”

  Pops stood back with obvious pride after dialing a combination and opening a full-sized steel door that opened into something that resembled a walk-in closet. Jimmy’s eyes grew wide as he stared at the rows upon rows of gleaming shotguns and deadly looking rifles.

  “Look Jimmy,” Julie said, pointing to one of the rifles, “a Browning .308, just like the one that Jon had. And isn’t that a Winchester?”

  Pops stared at Julie with a twinkle in his eye. “A woman who knows her firearms,” he said, a huge smile growing across his weathered face. “You’re my kind of gal, sweetie. If I was twenty… thirty... forty years younger…”

  They all chuckled at that, and Pops began loading them up with guns and ammunition. They made three trips each down to the front door. When they had finished, Pops stood back and checked things off. They had an impressive pile stacked there, sleeping bags, three full duffel bags of extra clothes and boots, foods, candies, even a fair amount of what Pops called his “sippin’ whiskey.”

  “How on earth are we going to carry all of that?” Julie asked.

  “Not a problem,” Pops said. “Each of the wheelers has a trailer. We take ‘em out to the shack all the time. Looks like we’ve covered all the bases. Let’s get down there and get the others.”

  Ken was waiting at the door when they returned; relief was evident in his eyes as they walked inside. Pops outlined his plan, and after checking on Dunn pronounced him fit to travel. “He’s going to have to ride with someone,” he said to Julie, not bothering to whisper. “Looks like he lost some of his marbles.”

  Bill laughed at that, and Julie turned on him. “So,” she said, pointing a finger at him. “Why don’t you tell us again how you smelled the odorless gas?”

  Bill looked confused. “What?” he asked. “I already told you. I have a nose for danger.”

  Pops reached deep into the pocket of his jacket and pulled out the tinfoil-wrapped sandwich. He opened it up and held it under Bill’s nose. “Look familiar?” Pops asked.

  Bill shook his head. “No,” he said, half-heartedly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Don’t lie to me, sonny.”

  �
��I’m not,” Bill said. “Jacobs must’ve made that sandwich, and it looks like they sure as heck knew what they were doing. Are you gonna eat that?”

  Pops rolled his eyes and handed Bill the sandwich.

  “We were guests in that house,” scolded Ken. “How could you do that?”

  “What?” he asked, picking up the sandwich and studying it, as if for the first time.

  Jimmy narrowed his eyes into slits and stared at Bill. He didn’t blame Pops for being upset, even if Bill had saved their lives. No matter how you sliced it, Bill had no right prowling around inside the house while everyone was asleep, and he certainly had no business rummaging around in someone else’s refrigerator. To lie about it only made it a thousand times worse. Jimmy looked around the room and found that everyone was staring at Bill with the same look of contempt; it didn’t seem to bother Bill one single bit. He chomped down on his sandwich and began to chew and chomped again.

  “Does anyone smell something funny?” Pops asked. There was a twinkle in his eyes as he held his head up and sniffed the air.

  Julie practically jumped up from her chair and began to sniff the air like a bloodhound. After everything they had been through, Jimmy couldn’t blame her for being paranoid. Pops held his hands up and gave her a wink. Bill swallowed and took another bite. And there was suddenly a look in his eyes that Jimmy had never seen before. He pulled the sandwich away from his mouth, stared at it in horror, and then threw it to the floor as if it were boiling with maggots.

  Pops sniffed again. “That smells like Dave’s Insanity Sauce,” he said. “I sure as hell hope Jacobs didn’t put any of that hot shit on your sandwich.”

  “You… son-of-a-bitch,” Bill said thickly, spitting globs of food into his hands.

  “Me?” asked Pops, looking absolutely delighted with himself. “I ain’t got no idea what you’re talking about. But, if that is Insanity Sauce, I feel bad for ya. I hear that shit is banned in some places. Too damn hot.”

  “That’s most unfortunate,” said Julie with mock concern.

  “It certainly is,” added Ken. “Most unfortunate, indeed.”

  Bill’s eyes were flooding over, and he suddenly howled like an injured wolf. “Water!” he hissed, in a voice that now sounded scorched. “I need water! Oh, my God!”

  Jimmy watched as Bill’s face turned as red as a tomato and felt his own smile begin to droop. Bill had panic in his eyes, and his mouth hung open as if he were in a dentist’s chair. Jimmy had seen Bill eat hot things before, things hot enough to melt another man’s guts, but whatever he had eaten seemed to be in a category by itself.

  “Water,” plead Bill, with such agony that Jimmy looked away. This had run its course, and the time had come to put an end to it. Jimmy jumped up and headed for the door.

  “Hold it,” snapped Pops, pointing at Jimmy. He pulled a plastic bottle of water out of his jacket pocket. “I got a bottle of water right here. But he ain’t getting a drop until he admits he lied to us and then apologizes for his lying. I’m too old to put up with bullshit and I won’t tolerate it. No sir!”

  “I’m sorry,” hissed Bill, returning his jaw to full open.

  “Sorry for what?” Pops asked, with such anger in his eyes that Jimmy hardly recognized him. He suddenly realized that Bill was playing with two kinds of fire, and that unless he confessed his sins, the fool could burst into flames and still wouldn’t get any water from the old man.

  “Spit it out,” ordered Ken. “Or you could die, you idiot!”

  Bill now had his hands around his own throat as if he were choking. “I’m sorry, I made the sandwich,” he lisped. “I’m sorry for lying to you. I learned my lesson!”

  Pops nodded his head and tossed Bill the bottle. Bill guzzled it down as fast as he could pour it into his mouth. When it was empty he looked relieved, but only for a second.

  “Get him up to the house,” Pops said, pointing at Jimmy. “Get him some ice cubes. Go on now, the both of you.”

  Jimmy followed Bill up to the house, barely able to keep up with him. He was angry at both Pops and Bill. They should be loading up and heading away from here. They were grown men acting like little boys, and that bothered him even though he knew all men acted that way at different times. They just weren’t supposed to do it together. That was how wars got started and that was the last thing they needed.

  Five minutes and half a dozen ice cubes later, Jimmy heard the distinct sound of an approaching four-wheeler. He walked to the kitchen window and peered outside. Julie, Ken, and Pops were each on their own machine, and each was pulling a small, rugged-looking trailer. They putted across the lawn and pulled up outside the door where their supplies were stashed.

  “That was stupid, Bill,” Jimmy said. “Why the hell did you lie about something so stupid?”

  Ten minutes later, their small group pulled away from the house on six weathered Arctic Cat ATVs. There was a deep chill in the air, and thankfully Pops had outfitted them all with winter jackets, hats, and gloves. Jimmy smoked as he rode, following Julie, who rode behind Dunn and Ken. Jimmy couldn’t be sure, but Dunn seemed to be somewhat out of his funk. He hoped so.

  They wound up and over hills, across creeks, through tangled woods and swampy bogs. Pops led them slowly down the rutted trail, speeding up when conditions allowed. Bouncing beams of headlamps pierced the blackness where not even a single star was visible in the night sky. Jimmy hated to admit it to himself, but on some level he was enjoying this. Something had been lost when civilization had returned to normal; he just couldn’t put his finger on what it was. As bad as things were up at Ken’s place, there was something magical about the time they had spent there. Once again, Jimmy looked over his shoulder and was happy to see that no one was following them.

  The ride would take the better part of an hour.

  Chapter 29

  “Hope is a waking dream.” ~ Aristotle

  The cabin, as Pops had called it; looked more like a giant fort that teenagers had built, at least to Jimmy it did. There were two floors, and the bottom looked like it had been added to, many times over. The front of the shack had been sided with an ancient garage door. “I know she don’t look like much from the outside,” Pops said, waving them inside with his flashlight. “But we’ll be plenty comfortable.”

  Jimmy followed the others inside and was thunderstruck at what he saw. Pops walked across the carpet floor and flipped a switch, bathing the room in yellow light.

  “Wow,” said Ken, nodding his head in approval. “This is really nice.”

  “I built her myself,” Pops said, with obvious pride. “I’ve been working on it for almost forty years.”

  The walls were carefully paneled, and the ceiling had been done in knotty pine. Pops leaned over a wall-mounted furnace, and a moment later the front of the unit began to glow with orange flames. He didn’t stop there. He opened a cabinet, and the sounds of old country music began to play softly from unseen speakers. The main room was roughly twenty by thirty, with an eight-foot ceiling. Dated sofas lined two walls; alongside them were mismatched recliners and end tables. The kitchen area was complete with a counter and sink. Pops had installed steel kitchen cabinets that looked nearly as old as he did. A dining room table with two long benches sat just outside the kitchen area. Jimmy joined Julie at the wall. She was studying one of the many framed photographs that hung on the walls. “This must be your wife,” Julie said, pointing to the picture. “She was a beautiful woman.”

  “Damn right she was,” said Pops, pulling a brown bottle down from the top shelf of a cabinet. “She was the best thing that ever happened to me.” He twisted the cap off the bottle and raised it to his lips. “Medicinal purposes,” he said, just before taking a substantial swig. He swallowed, grimaced, and shook his head. Without offering the bottle to anyone else, he replaced the cap and returned the bottle to the shelf. “I think we better sleep in shifts. We got two bedrooms, one up and one down. They ain’t much, but each room has a set of bunk beds,
and we got plenty of sleeping bags.”

  “You guys go ahead,” said Ken. “Jimmy and I will take the first watch.”

  “I figured you were gonna say that,” Pops said, nodding his head. “That’s fine with me. Old coots like me need our sleep; that’s how we get to be this age. Look, we shouldn’t have to worry much until it gets light out. I’m not sure what time they’ll get here, but you can bet they’ll be here before lunch.”

  “Who are you talking about?” asked Julie, pulling her hair back behind her ears.

  “I’m not sure. That’s the crux of the damn biscuit. Could be they’ll send in the local authorities and that would be great. We give ourselves up and take our chances with the system. It’s also possible that the CIA will send in a team of its own.” Pops looked at the floor and scratched his chin. “That wouldn’t be so good.”

  “We’ve been in a few scraps,” Jimmy said, clenching his fist in the air. “Bring ‘em on.”

  Pops laughed amusedly. “We’d probably never hear them coming. These guys are pros. Killing people is what they do.”

  “But, why?” Ken asked, standing up from the bench he sat on. “What the hell did we do to anyone?”

  “They’re afraid of you,” Pops said. “I don’t watch no television, it got to where I couldn’t believe a word that was coming out of people’s mouths, but I surf the internet every now and then. The way I see it, you touched a pretty big nerve and threatened their way of life. These guys don’t mess around, if they see a threat, they eliminate it. They don’t want a revolution, they like things just the way they are.”

  “I wasn’t calling for a revolution.”

  “Huh,” grunted Pops. “Is that right?”