We rode on across open fields for about another 10 minutes before Maggie raised her hand, James, who kept behind her the entire way, swung over to her left and slowed as she did, before both of them came to a stop. All of us, turned and looked back and saw the woods in the distance. There was no sign of pursuit. I heard Maggie's engine shut off and she waved to get James' attention and made a “kill the engine” sign which was a simple mimicking turning a key. James' ATV engine sputtered and then died. We found ourselves in pure silence. Eventually the small sounds came to us. Birds singing, in the distance, insects buzzing nearby.
“Where to now?” I asked with a sigh. Maggie ignored the question for a long moment. She took out a pair of regular binoculars and scanned the area all around us. Quietly, she put them away and then leaned back against the supplies piled on the back of her ATV and closed her eyes. A single tear coursed down her cheek. James sat there watching his mother quietly and I thought it best to do the same.
A sigh, escaped from her lips and she fiercely wiped the errant tear away and opened her eyes, but didn't look at either of us. Finally, after a long moment she said and signed, “home.” Without another word she leaned forward and turned the key and the ATV started up. Seconds later I felt the one underneath me come to life. Soon, we were rolling across the field again, only not as fast, James and I fell in behind her once more. Eventually we came across a simple 3 line wire fence that I saw was electrical from the occasional porcelain conduits on every other post. Maggie and James turned and followed the fence line for about a ¼ mile before coming to a gate, where Maggie stopped just short of it, and James went around her and waited until she dismounted and opened the gate to let him through. She got back on hers and drove it past the gate to where she could stop and close it again behind her, then got back on and rumbled past us leading the way again.
Another 15 minutes later we crested a low hill and I saw a single level farm house sitting quietly by itself in the middle of the field we were in, a sort of garage or shed off to one side. Next to the garage-shed were two large cylinder tanks side by side, I recognized them as being above ground type fuel tanks. Whether they contained gasoline, or kerosene for heating oil. I couldn't be sure. A driveway leading from one side of the house past the garage-shed and fuel tanks to a two-lane wide gravel road lay beyond. Parked in the driveway was a large, 4 door, late model pick-up truck. The house was big enough to have blocked whatever else might've been on the property. Here, Maggie stopped again and scanned the area before moving closer to the house. We stopped once more, being even closer to the home but still on the opposite side of the last fence that went around the property, with one more still around the yard which was showing signs of being maintained. She reached into a pocket of her fatigue jacket and pulled out what appeared to be a key-chain and car alarm. She pressed the button. Immediately, I could hear a horn blasting every second and a series of sirens. Maggie kept her eyes on the farm house for any sign of movement before lowering them and pressing the button on the key fob silencing the alarm. She sat for another few moments before raising the glass to her eyes once more.
“See anyth-” I was about to ask but James hand rose up in front of my face in a clear statement to shut the hell up. I did, thinking that this kid was far too serious for his age. But considering the lifestyle they probably lived in the past few months I felt that I could hardly blame him. I did find the fact kind of sad though. Eventually Maggie put the binoculars away and revved up her engine and put it in gear. We traveled even slower as we approached the house. Obviously this woman wasn't taking any chances. Yet I couldn't help but wonder at the extra caution, as I surveyed the surroundings as we rode. From up top of the rise we just left you could see for a good ways until your eyes hit the tree lines in the distance. I thought I could make out the peak of what appeared to be a barn over the tops of the trees.
There was very little for a standing person to hide behind and if there were any zombies we'd seen them long before that. Particularly after sounding the car alarm and the motors of our ATV's.
Wanting to be ready for anything, I tapped James on the shoulder and made a gun gesture with my thumb and index finger. He shook his head and made a brusque “shhh” gesture with his middle finger on his lips. My eyebrow went up, nice chance of that happening kid, I thought, with the engines of these ATV's rumbling. Maybe he was just telling me to STFU and be grateful that I was brought along for the ride. Part of me wanted to laugh and the other part of me wanted to smack the crap out of him for being so rude. Then I was glad that I didn't do either as I realized that I had no idea where the hell we were in relation to anything.
As we got near the house I saw that it too was surrounded by a fence, this one just a plain wire fence designed to keep cattle on their side, and a gate near a corner where it angled off to the edge of the gravel driveway. From there it angled again following the drive out to the road which was about 100 yards from the house before angling back down the road along the property line. A mailbox sat askew on it's post, the door yawning wide open for letters and junk mail that would never come again.
Instead of stopping at the house Maggie drove around slowly in a full circle with James and I in tow. The ATV's were powerful models and would surely outrun any walker or walkers that may have stumbled onto the farm. I had a feeling that the gas-tanks of these things were full and I wouldn't have been surprised if she had stashes located here and there along predetermined escape routes. Soon we rolled to a stop by the side of the house, where I presumed was the kitchen entrance. It was a simple single story rambler on a high cinder block foundation that made me guess that the place had a basement underneath, though I don't recall seeing any windows embedded along the ground level as we circled the house.
Almost simultaneously, Mother and son turned off their ATV's and simply sat on them, not moving. I took the opportunity to scan the yard and noted the pick up truck parked off to one side of the driveway and a nice crop of weeds growing around the tires. All round the place the grass was about ankle high and shrubs over grown. Meaning that it hadn't been maintained for a short while. My guess was about a couple of weeks. Most yards I had seen up to this point had very thick months old grass and shrubs. Maggie dismounted and pulled her sidearm and chambered a round. She made a “stay” motion to James and me and walked quietly up to the steps leading to the door, holding the weapon at the ready.
As she reached the lowest step she stopped and dug into her pocket until she pulled a set of keys and glanced down long enough to find the one she wanted and then held the gun in both hands again, the keyring dangling off one finger of her support hand. She took the 3 steps one at a time, pausing at each before reaching the short landing at the door. My hand crept to my own sidearm in it's holster and waited. James sat and merely moved his head slightly side to side, watching the sides of the house, but otherwise not moving. I kept my eyes on the woman.
She cocked her elbow back and up holding the gun with one hand as she reached for the screen door-handle and pulled it slowly open. Once it was wide enough, she moved her leg to prop it open and then deftly got the key ring off her finger and the one to the door lock in her other hand. Everything she did was done with as little noise as possible. By now I was both tensed up, ready for anything and confused that if the house was locked then there shouldn't be any danger. I reminded myself that these two had managed to survive all these months, likely alone and very likely experienced in being surprised when there shouldn't have been any surprises.
She inserted the key into the lock and then waited. First she tried the door knob before turning the key. It seemed locked. Then boldly she rapped on the glass pane of the window set into the door, then held the weapon with both hands, her elbow still cocked back where the gun was near her head, pointed at the door. My imagination was working over time as I thought I caught a glimpse of something moving inside past the curtains of the window of the door. I tensed up and James must've felt it as he raised his middle finger again to his lips. I saw Maggie tense up and take a half step backwards on the landing. My hand moved to draw my weapon and James quick as lightning whipped his hand back and rested it on mine, pinning it to the holster. He turned his head around far enough to glare at me and mouthed the word “no.”
Suddenly the door opened to the inside and voice shouted out “Don't shoot me little girl!” Maggie stood still for about half a second before lowering her weapon to her side and she shouted back, “Dammit Daddy, I told you stop calling me “little girl”!” This was preceded by a loud guffaw of laughter and a hand reached out and grabbed Maggie by the arm and pulled her in.
“Daddy?” I muttered to myself. James had removed his hand from on top of mine, and dismounted the ATV and sprinted to the house with a grin. I sat there dumbfounded and heard the shouts of hellos from inside as the boy bounded up the steps and into the opened door. A moment later Maggie came back out and stepped off the porch, gun holstered and a big grin on her face.
“It's okay, the house is safe. C'mon in, we'll get the stuff off the rides later.” I must've sat there looking at her so severely that the grin faltered for a moment. My heart began slowing down. “It's just my dad” she explained, “it's okay.” There was a slight blush I saw creeping up on her cheeks as she watched me still staring at her. She lowered her chin a bit and bit at her lip. “Sorry if you were...” trying to find the right word, she guessed rightly that “scared” wouldn't been a good choice. “Nervous” she finally finished.
“But I had to make sure it was alright. Dad could've been bitten while we were gone, came back into the house, locking himself in and turned and then ...” she trailed off for a second... “anyway, he's okay and it's alright.” She reached out and touched my shoulder gently, “c'mon in” she asked again, this time with a tiny note of apologetic pleading, “meet my dad.” Her blue eyes sparkled and she leaned close and whispered, “otherwise I won't keep my promise.” I had to resist an urge to grab her head and pull her in for another kiss. Instead I dismounted the ATV. I reached around to get my pack but Maggie's hand on my arm stopped me. “No, we'll get all that later, it'll be okay.” I quietly gave in and followed her to the house.
As we stepped inside, we saw her father was leaning against a counter along one wall, James stood by the small table that was against another, next to the refrigerator, he was in an animated conversation that consisted of both vocalizations and signs with his grandfather. We walked in the door in time to hear James say “...then we met this athsshole who...”, Maggie stomped her foot on the floor hard enough for me to feel it through my boots, and shouted “James!” The boy froze and looked at his mother like he'd been busted with his hand in the cookie jar only worse.
Her father laughed and reached out and grabbed the boy's shoulder pulling him towards him in an protective embrace. “Now, now Maggie, don't tear him a new one just yet.” Then he saw me, “I see you brought a civilian survivor with you.” he stated as he gave me a quick once-over that left me feeling like a prom date meeting the father for the first time. “Dad,” Maggie's voice warned. He raised a hand and waved her off and simultaneously waved us in as he patted the boy on the shoulder and turned towards us.
He stuck out his hand in greeting. “Colonel Frank Sandling, U.S. Army, retired.” Well, that explained a lot right there. I took his hand and he gripped it firmly, giving it a single shake before letting go. “John Handle” I introduced myself. He nodded with neither approval nor disapproval, only that he got the name. “Where you from John Handle?” The question was social not interrogative. “Just outside of Atlanta sir, near Dalton.” Sir? Damned if I wasn't caught up in this military atmosphere.
“How did you find your way up here?” he asked, again the question came across as socially curious, but expectant of an answer. He had that air about him that expected respect, retired or not, but at the same time it wasn't a forced expectation. Before I could answer, Maggie interrupted, “Dad, lets hold off the questions and de-briefing until at least we have a chance to sit down.” Her request, again was easy but at once respectful as if she might've said, “begging the Colonel's pardon, requesting interrogation be postponed temporarily sir.”
Her father gave her a look of quick study and he nodded. “Of course, of course. You must've had a busy morning.” He gestured to the table, “sit down and take a load off, coffee be ready in a couple minutes.” He moved over to the table, flicked a switch on the wall, pulled out a chair and sat. Maggie took the one to his right and James had moved out of the kitchen and into the living room and was rummaging around for something. I took the chair opposite of the Colonel and sat down.
The inside of the house was cool and I saw immediately that they had electricity, as the recessed florescence lighting in the ceiling of the kitchen lit up the room. The interior of house, from what I could see so far was spotlessly clean and ordered. The kitchen was opened to the living room with a hall way leading to the rest of the house to the right. There was the nice smell of coffee and I spied a pot brewing on the counter. I turned to her father who watched me as I surveyed the interior of the house. I don't know why but I felt like a guilty intruder.
Maggie's father's eyes were nothing like hers but they were still boring into me and reading me as I sat quietly trying not to get into a staring match with the man. Something which I knew already I would lose miserably. His face still held a relaxed manner, but I felt that he was looking into me and finding out things that I normally wouldn't have talked about. I tried getting a read off of him and it was like a stone wall. There was nothing cold about him but there was a curious blank spot that said nothing about him, except that he knew how to be at once disarming and commanding at the same time.
He wasn't a large man, though taller than me by a couple of inches and his build belied the strength that I felt in his handshake. His face was youthful, yet the faint lines of age shown the years of experience and hard work. All of that was just on the surface. Everything else a blank. I heard Maggie sigh in exasperation. “Alright Dad, enough of the silent treatment. How have you been?”
He turned to his daughter and gave her an affectionate smile and placed his hand on hers. “I'm doing just fine hunny. Though I missed you two, I'm glad to see you're both still in one piece,” he looked at me, “do I have you to thank for that?”
I opened my mouth to answer but Maggie jumped in her voice serious, “yes sir you do. He's been a life-saver since we've met him.” I tried hard not to blush at her praise. “Uh, it goes both ways,” I managed to say hoping to cut off any one-sidedness. Her father turned his head and looked over shoulder, “seems to made an impression on James,” he reflected matter-of-factly. I glanced down at the spotless table top and said “well, I don't know about that sir.” The man brushed it off, “nonsense,” he stated, “I can tell that he likes you.” He grinned, “if he didn't you wouldn't be here.”
“Dad!” Maggie said shocked.
He laughed aloud and gave her a nudge, “just kidding hunny, just kidding.” He turned to me again. “So, Mr. Handle, or can I call you John?” I swallowed and nodded, “John is fine sir, just fine.” He nodded back, “well in that case you can call me Frank and drop the “sir” because you're a civilian,” he paused, “if I'm right about that?” leaving the question hanging. I nodded affirmatively, “yes sir...uh, yeah, that's right, I've never been in the military.” He nodded with a slight shrug of his shoulders as if it was alright anyway.
James came back into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator door and peered inside. “Alright!” he said aloud, and reached in and came back up holding a brown bottle that I presumed was rootbeer. Maggie's foot stomped the floor twice this time, though not as hard, getting the boy's attention. He looked up guilty at his mother. She made a few signs at him without voicing. The Colonel eyed his daughter's hand movements and then waved her off, “Ohhh, come off it now Maggie, give the boy a minute's rest.”
She turned and looked at her father sternly. “Dad, lets not get into this right now.” and turned back to her son and pointed at the fridge. James looked crestfallen and nodded and muttered “yes m'am” and she immediately waved to get his attention and made a quick motion with her hand. James spoke up louder and clearer, “Yes m'am” and opened the fridge and put the bottle back in. He then stepped off to one side and faced his grandfather, speaking and signing at the same time, “Grandpaw, can I have a rootbeer please?” Frank nodded and made a simple “yes” sign. Maggie held out her hand and as he took it she squeezed gently as if to take the bite out of her words moments ago. She let go of his hand finger spelled something to which he nodded. He opened the fridge again and gotten the same bottle he just put back in. “Thank you sir” he said as he shut the door to the fridge. Frank reached out and patted the boy's arm. James moved over to the empty chair at the end of the table, leaving the one next to me empty.
Frank got up from the table and went over to the coffee pot and checked it. He then took three cups from the cabinet directly above the coffee maker and set them down on the counter. he opened a drawer and removed three spoons and set them on the counter next to the cups. Without turning around he asked Maggie to get the cream out of the fridge. He also stated that he felt that it was time to get down to business of debriefing and planning the next move. Maggie started to object but closed her mouth and I guess she recognized an “order” from her father. He may be retired but I gathered that he still expected to be obeyed. The idea that they had cream had me wondering but I brushed the nit-picking questions for later. He filled up the cups and put the pot back on the burner and promptly emptied the filter holding the grounds in the garbage and wiped the counter of any errant spills or specks of brewed coffee grounds. He set the cups down on the table, 1 in front of each of us and nodded with a quick wink to James, when Maggie put the creamer in front of her father's cup. The boy repressed a grin when his mother looked at him and he signed "thanks" to her and opened the twist cap off the bottle.
Frank sat down and carefully measured out the cream and reached for the sugar bowl that sat in the middle of the table with the salt and pepper shakers on either side. Once his coffee was to how he liked it he sat and waited until Maggie and I had prepped ours. Actually, I took mine black and Maggie with a spoon of sugar.
“Well,” he began looking at me, “it seems that this story begins with you Maggie, so if you would please.” He said this with a combination of both voice and signing. Maggie sat quietly for a moment and began their story on the morning that we met. I took over when she paused and looked at me. I had to back track to the beginning of my story from where I left the interstate and entered the store. When I reached the point of the story where Maggie and I nearly bumped into each other by the dumpster, she took over again. From there she and I traded off on relating our tale.
We must've talked for about an hour and two cups of coffee before we were done. Throughout all of this Frank didn't say one word or interrupt with questions. James remained quiet throughout and just sipped at his bottle of soda, as if he knew he wasn't going anywhere and that the whole “debriefing” would take a while. I had to at least admire the kid's ability to hide his restlessness through our story. Most kids at his age would've started fidgeting about 15 minutes in. It became more obvious just how militarized this boy's world was in spite of his disability.
When Maggie was done we were “pulled up to the house and she was about to open the door, when you ... startled me, sir.” Frank sat quietly and took a final sip of his 2nd cup and set it on the table. “Alright then,” looking at me again, “question I have for you are to ascertain your intentions.”
I took a swallow of coffee and took about 10 seconds before answering, speaking directly to Frank, “to be honest, what I've been doing whenever I meet people is to hang around for as long as they'll have me and then move on.” I looked at all three of them deliberately. “I'm not a mooch or a free-loader and I contribute when, where and however I'm needed. The only thing I expect is mutual respect from everyone and if necessary a fair trade for goods and or services. As to where I'm going, I'm just following my feet and living day to day trying to survive all of this craziness that's been going on for the last few months. I've made friends that I probably won't see again along the way and sad to say I've made some enemies which I'm happy to say that I won't see again either. As for you folks, my appreciation for everything that Maggie and James have done. I'm happy for whatever contribution I've made may have helped saved their lives and I'm grateful for their return contribution to my own life.”
I paused long enough to take another sip of coffee. “As for the far future,” I continued, “I can't say and I doubt that anyone can honestly predict what it will hold for all of us. The near future I can be certain in my expressing a desire to stay with you folks for another few days to, err” groping for the right words, “rest and recover. You're welcome to whatever I have with the exception of food and ammunition that belonged to me prior to our meeting. The only thing I have to offer is a strong back and a willingness to help out. If you folks want me to move on, then I'll get my pack and do so and with my continued thanks for your hospitality and aid.”
I felt that little speech was about as piss-poor as I could've made it and hated myself for it. But I look back on it and recognized that it was a (again) piss poor attempt at being formal around the authoritarian air of the Colonel. I sat back politely and waited.
Frank said nothing, looking at me with no hint of what was going through his mind. Then he picked up his empty cup, glanced at Maggie's, which was not empty, pointed at it and picked it up when she shook her head, then pointed at mine and picked it up when I shook my head and held a hand over the cup to say I was finished. He held the three cups in one hand and looked at James' bottle, which the boy noted and quickly finished it off and handed it to his grandfather and signed what I already learned was “thank you.” I could only presume that there was a “sir” in there somewhere.
Frank took the cups and bottle to the sink and put them in quietly and returned to his seat. We sat in silence before he nodded and placed both hands on the table. “Well, it seems to me that we need to figure out what's next,” he began. “Either keep you on here for a few days, as you requested or see how we can help you on your way tomorrow morning.” I automatically looked outside one of the kitchen windows, saw it was still light out. I then took a glance at my watch read the time to be just before noon. It felt longer than that.
If anything at least I had a place to sleep for the evening and maybe on a real bed for a change. If I was really lucky maybe even a hot shower.
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