He was working the handle on the pump and she was holding the water pack beneath the flow when one of them came into sight. It was a young male, but he kept his distance, watching them from behind a large tree which stood alone near the farm house. They both watched him without speaking. When the water packs were full, Dan held his head under the spigot for a moment, then they trotted the fifty feet back into the barn and barred the door.
“I saw that one last night about this same time,” he said, raking his fingers through his soaking hair. “He’s not aggressive like the others.”
They sat down, back-to-back against an oak support beam, her watching the front, him watching the rear.
“I wish you hadn’t cut your hair off,” he said after a while. It had been bugging him. “All that beautiful red hair.”
“What the hell do I need to be beautiful for?”
“I’m not dead yet.”
“Yes, you are. You’re just too stupid to admit it.”
“I want to fuck,” he said, twisting to peer at her around the beam.
“Don’t be cute.”
“I’m not being cute,” he said, standing to unbutton his camouflaged trousers.
She looked up at him in dismay. “My god, you’re serious.”
“I want you, Jill. Get your pants off.”
She laughed sardonically and looked away. “I know what you’re trying to do,” she said.
“Jesus, Jill. I’m not that stupid.”
Though they had both survived their hellish bouts with the plague and were now immune to it, the contagion was known to leave most of its very few survivors infertile, and the chances of them both having avoided that side-affect were terribly remote.
“That stuff’s behind us,” she said. “Go jerk off.”
“Then I want you to say her name.”
She sighed aloud and got wearily to her feet. “If they come in the middle of it…”
“Hopefully, you’ll come in the middle of it,” he said with a grin.
“Ha, ha.” She walked over to the pell-mell pile of hay bails and pushed her trousers to her ankles and lay back. “Hurry up. The straw’s hurting my butt.”
He knelt between her splayed knees and lowered himself, sliding inside of her. He smiled adoringly as she looked back at him with benign indifference.
“I’ve never seen a woman as beautiful as you,” he said. “Even still.”
She slid her hands behind his neck and laced her fingers as he moved gently in and out of her. “There are shadows at the back.”
He lowered his face to kiss her and she kissed him back, and that was all that it took for him to finish. There was a sudden clatter in the far corner against the outside wall as he pulled up his trousers. A small cluster of men were jamming a crowbar between the planks. He grabbed the rifle, snapping off a shot. A man screamed and fell over howling as the others fled. The crowbar clanged against something outside.
She fastened her trousers and got to her feet, taking up the shotgun.
“See?”
They stood listening to the mortally wounded man as he howled pitifully.
“Are you going to finish him or let him scream like that?”
“He can scream all he likes. I’m not wasting the bullet.”
So they resumed their watch at the center of the barn and sat waiting for the wounded man to fall silent. Sometime after dark he died.
They saw the first torch about an hour later, a hundred or so yards out into the alfalfa. It came to a stop and stood burning like some eerie beacon of death.
“Do you think they’ll fire the barn?”
“No,” he said. “They’ll try to starve us out before they do that.” He chuckled and said, “We won’t have as much meat on our bones by then, but the barn’s irreplaceable.”
“Not everybody thinks like you, you know. Most people aren’t looking very far into the future.”
“Know what? I think that torch is meant for a distraction.”
He stood and crept through the dark towards the back of the barn and stood listening with his ear pressed to a knothole. A small twig snapped somewhere out in the darkness, the soft crunching of dried grass under foot. He backed away from the wall and sought cover behind a redoubt of hay bails, keeping the rifle trained on the wall. One of those bastards out there was damn good with a crossbow and he didn’t want a bolt coming through the wall to skewer him.
He could hear steps just beyond the wall now, but he couldn’t gain a sure enough sense of where the interloper was to risk a shot.
“Hey ya, hey ya,” called a deep voice, and Dan knew that whoever it was had already taken cover behind the concrete watering trough six feet off the back of the barn.
Neither Dan nor Jill ever spoke back when they were taunted because the locals were trying to get them to give away their locations inside the barn.
“Hey, ya. Hey, ya,” the man called again. “Hey, hey, hey.”
Dan could hear the soft scraping of metal against concrete as the man chanted, and he realized the man must be ladling stagnant water from the trough into a jug or a canteen. He took his pistol from its holster and was moving towards the wall to position himself for a shot when he heard a blast from Jill’s shotgun at the far end.
The caller behind the trough jumped up an instant later and scurried off, the sounded of sloshing water receding with him.
They met in the center of the barn.
“What’d you see?” he said quietly.
“Someone tapped on the wall with stick or something,” she said. “I probably shouldn’t have fired. Was that the same caller from last night?”
“He was getting water from the trough.”
“Let them drink that putrid shit if they want to,” she said. “They’ll be sorry if they don’t boil it.”
More torches appeared in the distance and soon there was a blazing bonfire way out in the alfalfa, flames licking ten feet into the air. People standing around it singing hymnals.
Dan thought to try shooting one of them, but it was too far in the dark to risk wasting the bullet.
“How can they stand a fire like that in this heat?” he wondered.
“Maybe you should go out and tell them about the lions,” she said.
“God, you’re funny.”
They found their places and sat with their hands cupped behind their ears, listening intently for the slightest disturbance. In time they smelled meat cooking on the breeze and their stomachs began to churn in spite of what they knew the meat to be.
“That is people, isn’t it?”
“Yeah,” he said. “It’s people for sure this time.”
“I refuse to let it make me hungry.”
They were quiet for a while.
“How can they be singing to god?” she said finally.
“They’re fucking nuts, that’s how. You know, that looks like most of them over there. I think we should make a break for it.”
“Don’t be stupid. Those guys with the bows are out there and you know it. They slept all goddamn day, and now they’re right out there in the dark waiting for us.”
“Day after tomorrow our rations run out,” he said. “After that we’ll have no choice.”
“This is our Alamo,” she said. “We make our stand here.”
He refused to accept that.
“The guy I shot before dark is right over there on the other side of the wall,” he said. “I could dig under and get hold of his leg. Drag it in and hack it off at the knee with the tomahawk. We could make a fire in here tomorrow and cook it. That alone would buy us an entire day.”
She closed her eyes and tried to block him out.
“I saw that one last night about this same time,” he said, raking his fingers through his soaking hair. “He’s not aggressive like the others.”
They sat down, back-to-back against an oak support beam, her watching the front, him watching the rear.
“I wish you hadn’t cut your hair off,” he said after a while. It had been bugging him. “All that beautiful red hair.”
“What the hell do I need to be beautiful for?”
“I’m not dead yet.”
“Yes, you are. You’re just too stupid to admit it.”
“I want to fuck,” he said, twisting to peer at her around the beam.
“Don’t be cute.”
“I’m not being cute,” he said, standing to unbutton his camouflaged trousers.
She looked up at him in dismay. “My god, you’re serious.”
“I want you, Jill. Get your pants off.”
She laughed sardonically and looked away. “I know what you’re trying to do,” she said.
“Jesus, Jill. I’m not that stupid.”
Though they had both survived their hellish bouts with the plague and were now immune to it, the contagion was known to leave most of its very few survivors infertile, and the chances of them both having avoided that side-affect were terribly remote.
“That stuff’s behind us,” she said. “Go jerk off.”
“Then I want you to say her name.”
She sighed aloud and got wearily to her feet. “If they come in the middle of it…”
“Hopefully, you’ll come in the middle of it,” he said with a grin.
“Ha, ha.” She walked over to the pell-mell pile of hay bails and pushed her trousers to her ankles and lay back. “Hurry up. The straw’s hurting my butt.”
He knelt between her splayed knees and lowered himself, sliding inside of her. He smiled adoringly as she looked back at him with benign indifference.
“I’ve never seen a woman as beautiful as you,” he said. “Even still.”
She slid her hands behind his neck and laced her fingers as he moved gently in and out of her. “There are shadows at the back.”
He lowered his face to kiss her and she kissed him back, and that was all that it took for him to finish. There was a sudden clatter in the far corner against the outside wall as he pulled up his trousers. A small cluster of men were jamming a crowbar between the planks. He grabbed the rifle, snapping off a shot. A man screamed and fell over howling as the others fled. The crowbar clanged against something outside.
She fastened her trousers and got to her feet, taking up the shotgun.
“See?”
They stood listening to the mortally wounded man as he howled pitifully.
“Are you going to finish him or let him scream like that?”
“He can scream all he likes. I’m not wasting the bullet.”
So they resumed their watch at the center of the barn and sat waiting for the wounded man to fall silent. Sometime after dark he died.
They saw the first torch about an hour later, a hundred or so yards out into the alfalfa. It came to a stop and stood burning like some eerie beacon of death.
“Do you think they’ll fire the barn?”
“No,” he said. “They’ll try to starve us out before they do that.” He chuckled and said, “We won’t have as much meat on our bones by then, but the barn’s irreplaceable.”
“Not everybody thinks like you, you know. Most people aren’t looking very far into the future.”
“Know what? I think that torch is meant for a distraction.”
He stood and crept through the dark towards the back of the barn and stood listening with his ear pressed to a knothole. A small twig snapped somewhere out in the darkness, the soft crunching of dried grass under foot. He backed away from the wall and sought cover behind a redoubt of hay bails, keeping the rifle trained on the wall. One of those bastards out there was damn good with a crossbow and he didn’t want a bolt coming through the wall to skewer him.
He could hear steps just beyond the wall now, but he couldn’t gain a sure enough sense of where the interloper was to risk a shot.
“Hey ya, hey ya,” called a deep voice, and Dan knew that whoever it was had already taken cover behind the concrete watering trough six feet off the back of the barn.
Neither Dan nor Jill ever spoke back when they were taunted because the locals were trying to get them to give away their locations inside the barn.
“Hey, ya. Hey, ya,” the man called again. “Hey, hey, hey.”
Dan could hear the soft scraping of metal against concrete as the man chanted, and he realized the man must be ladling stagnant water from the trough into a jug or a canteen. He took his pistol from its holster and was moving towards the wall to position himself for a shot when he heard a blast from Jill’s shotgun at the far end.
The caller behind the trough jumped up an instant later and scurried off, the sounded of sloshing water receding with him.
They met in the center of the barn.
“What’d you see?” he said quietly.
“Someone tapped on the wall with stick or something,” she said. “I probably shouldn’t have fired. Was that the same caller from last night?”
“He was getting water from the trough.”
“Let them drink that putrid shit if they want to,” she said. “They’ll be sorry if they don’t boil it.”
More torches appeared in the distance and soon there was a blazing bonfire way out in the alfalfa, flames licking ten feet into the air. People standing around it singing hymnals.
Dan thought to try shooting one of them, but it was too far in the dark to risk wasting the bullet.
“How can they stand a fire like that in this heat?” he wondered.
“Maybe you should go out and tell them about the lions,” she said.
“God, you’re funny.”
They found their places and sat with their hands cupped behind their ears, listening intently for the slightest disturbance. In time they smelled meat cooking on the breeze and their stomachs began to churn in spite of what they knew the meat to be.
“That is people, isn’t it?”
“Yeah,” he said. “It’s people for sure this time.”
“I refuse to let it make me hungry.”
They were quiet for a while.
“How can they be singing to god?” she said finally.
“They’re fucking nuts, that’s how. You know, that looks like most of them over there. I think we should make a break for it.”
“Don’t be stupid. Those guys with the bows are out there and you know it. They slept all goddamn day, and now they’re right out there in the dark waiting for us.”
“Day after tomorrow our rations run out,” he said. “After that we’ll have no choice.”
“This is our Alamo,” she said. “We make our stand here.”
He refused to accept that.
“The guy I shot before dark is right over there on the other side of the wall,” he said. “I could dig under and get hold of his leg. Drag it in and hack it off at the knee with the tomahawk. We could make a fire in here tomorrow and cook it. That alone would buy us an entire day.”
She closed her eyes and tried to block him out.
1 comment:
Jim,
The writing is clean and straight-forward, the image clean, clear, and irresistable. Pure TJK. The Apocalptic Muse. You and whatsis name, C.Mc--but you've always got the military thing going. To keep with the metaphor, dynamite.
Bob
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