Page 154 of Hell Hath No Fury
“Cool beans,” Ryker said.
Juliana flashed a thumbs up.
I squinted my eyes at Ryker, cocking my head. “You stay away from that stove, dude!”
“It probably isn’t even working.” He rolled his eyes.
“If it’s gas, it probably does.”
“Oooo.” His eyes lit up.
“Juliana…”
“I got him, I got him,” she smiled, patting me on the back.
“Awesome, and Kammie, you’re looking for flashlights, batteries, any camping type stuff, fishing stuff, first aid kit, whatever. And I’ll look for guns and ammo. Sound good?”
“Sounds like a plan,” Kammie replied, leading the way inside.
We acquired two backpacks full of canned goods, pasta, rice, raisins, nuts, and some packaged treats and soda. We also had a small Coleman gas grill, a hatchet, a first aid kit, a sewing kit, flashlights, a lantern, batteries, a 9mm with five boxes of ammunition, and a Winchester hunting rifle with eight boxes of ammunition inside of a duffle bag. I put the only two cases of bottled water in an old Radio Flyer and took them down the steep hill.
When we returned, the kids wanted to have a party with all the new treats, but thanks to my obsession with post-apocalyptic novels, I knew food and water conservation were the two most important things when shit hit the fan. I handed out a few treats to keep the kids occupied then locked the rest up in the storage closet with keys I was forced to obtain from the doctor’s bloodied pocket. I had Juliana and Monica keep an eye on and the younger kids while Ryker, Kammie, and I went to deal with Bobby.
With rope we had acquired from the Carvill house, he bound his hands tightly together after releasing him from the volleyball net. We left his feet free and made Bobby dispose of his buddy’s body in the woods at gunpoint. He complained of the difficulty in doing so with his hands tied together, but we made him anyway. We never let him get more than a few feet away, and his mouth was duct taped shut, so it didn’t matter how much noise he made. Not that it really mattered anyway. From the looks of it, the whole wide world had gone to hell already. They didn’t give a shit about old Bobby any more than they did about us.
After dragging Stu’s body past the wood line, I handed Bobby a small shovel and told him to dig a grave for Dr. McCormick beside the vegetable garden.
“Why should I do that?” he sneered at me, gripping the shovel tightly. “I ought to stab you with this.”
“You’d be a dead man before you even got to me.” I motioned my head toward Kammie who had the hunting rifle aimed dead on him. Ryker was on the other side of him aiming the 9mm.
“Like you little kiddies even know how to use them things,” he hissed.
“You wanna fuckin’ try me, asshole?” Kammie cocked her head.
“You’re just gonna kill me anyway,” he replied through a sudden, unexpected sob.
“No, we aren’t, Bobby.”
He wiped his face with his shoulder. “Bullshit.”
“Listen, man. We just need you to help us with a few things we’re not strong enough to get done by ourselves, all right? That’s all. We’ve got enough blood on our hands. Enough blood to clean up. I just want this shit to be over.”
“You promise?”
“I promise.”
“Okay, fine. But can’t you untie my hands and get me a bigger shovel?” He looked at me with desperate eyes. He gestured with the shovel. “It’ll take all day with this thing.”
I acted like I thought it over for a moment and then shook my head. “Nah… sorry, Bobby boy. You’re gonna have to make do. You just can’t be trusted.”
* * *
It took him forever, but eventually, Bobby dug an appropriate grave, and after feeding him and getting him some water and a beer, we had him move her body to the grave. I left her there, uncovered, while we handled other stuff. I wanted to give her a proper memorial service, I wanted to honor her, but that couldn’t be done until I was done with him, and he was out of our hair.
My next goal was to get water from the Hillsborough River as Mr. Malcolm had suggested. I tried using Dr. McCormick’s car, but it wouldn’t start. At that point, I wished I hadn’t been so into post-apocalyptic novels, wished I hadn’t been currently readingOne Second After, wished I hadn’t known about an electromagnetic pulse, because I realized then with all the electronics out, that an EMP is likely what hit us. And if that’s what hit us, life as we knew it would never be the same.
Instead, we all made the long walk together, Ryker, Kammie, Juliana, and me along with our buddy Bobby at gunpoint. We were behind him, as he carried an old water cooler jug in his arms with his hands still tied. Kammie, Juliana and Ryker had buckets and I manned the rifle. We collected as much water as we could.
