Monday: March 3, 2008

Chapter 2

BANG! BANG! BANG!

“GET THE MUTHER FUCKE.. . ., I started to yell when a hand clapped over my mouth.. “Shhhhh, Tori, wake-up,” whispered Sam. I sat upright in the sleeping bag, blinking in the darkness and instinctively reached for my glasses. As I put them on, my eyes focused quickly, along with my head.

BANG! BANG! BANG!

There it was again. NOT gunshots, as in my dream, but pounding on some thing. “Where is everyone?” I rasped. “Wayne and Hubert are back in the 3rd chamber updating some electrical switches, Jose and Candy are --- , “ I cut him off, “The KIDS, Sam?” “Oh, the girls have them bedded down in the 2nd chamber. You really crashed out there, Tor – I was worried you got bit and I’d have to put you down, “ he teased as he bent down to kiss me.

“Ha! Ha! HA!, “ I dripped sarcastically as I bared my teeth at him. “Don’t get any ideas, LoverMan.”

BANG! BANG! BANG!

“What the HELL is that noise?

“John,” Sam replied matter of factly. “He’s smithing up more weapons today. He’s got the ‘granny’ stove fired up again.”

“Is that smart after yesterday?” “Necessity, my dear. Ok, my turn for watch, “ he said kissing my forehead.

“Love ya, stay alive.” “Always!," he winked over his shoulder.

I sighed as I rubbed my eyes clear and started outfitting for the day. The past months had been story after story of insanity. After Vegas fell we knew we were in deep shit.

What remained of Vegas was only 750 miles from us, give or take a few. Living out in no man’s land had its perks and its downside. The up was, we were in the world’s largest Alpine valley – so water was abundant, the down, it was also high desert country, sunny and hot, even in normal winter. Most snow melted out within a few hours of falling.

Good, because the mountains surround us and there are only so many ways in and out of the Valley. Bad, because the mountains surround us, and there are only so many ways in and out of the Valley.

BANG! BANG! BANG! That noise was starting to fucking annoy me and give me a splitting headache. “ Great way to start the morning,” I muttered to no one.

People out here don’t get in each other’s business. It’s a place with very little change, and a distinct daily grind. Anyone not born here, who can’t trace their heritage back to 500 years Mexico, will always be an outsider. So needless to say, when the shit hit the fan, a lot of people turned their backs and said, “We’ll take care of our own, you do the same.”

Our immediate neighbors (meaning they were close enough to see their lights on at night), consisted of brothers, Wayne and Hubert – and their families.

Wayne moved his family up here in 1986 and had a couple of mobile homes on his spread housing his 4 daughters and their families. Hubert followed two years later, by himself, after his divorce to wife # 8. No kids, just ex's.

I’d guess the brothers to be in their late sixties, mainly by some of the timelines they referenced, but neither of them acted or looked that old. Originally from Texas, they had cut their teeth working the oil fields.

Hubert was a virtual genius when it came to anything electrical or engineering. He could blue print it in his head and then make it a reality. That skill had taken him to Russia, Alaska, China and numerous other places. He was a rough neck with international security clearance, but he rarely spoke about where he had been and what he had done.

Wayne, on the other hand, was a great storyteller, especially when it came to Hubert’s escapades. But he was a fooler, that guy. You’d size him up as a yappy, happy go lucky, lug about, a shadow to Hubert’s “celebrity”, but Wayne was much more than that. His gift of gab was a sly, slick negotiating tool - something that came in mighty handy with things the way they were nowadays.

He kinda reminded me of Clint Eastwood, at 40, tall, lanky, an easy smile with a hard eyes. Yeah, Clint Eastwood, if you can imagine Clint as a fucking snake oil salesman. Doug said Wayne could charm the skin off a new potato. He was right.

Doug lived to the north of us and was our closest neighbor, as the crow flies. A cheesehead from Wisconsin, he had gotten a gig out here running a 5000+ acre potato farm. Doug had degrees up the wazoo in horticulture, agriculture, animal husbandry and stuff I had never even heard of before.

He was mid-forties, an extremely pleasant man, but not very pleasant to look at. Maybe why he was still single, but Sam summed it up this way, “Tori, he wears that weird broken necklace and all those damn bracelets.”

The rest of our troop included Wayne’s daughters: Candy, Cookie, Sugar and Honey, their husbands, his 2 grandkids, Woody and ‘Becca., and Hubert’s latest lady, Shyanne.

I pulled the last of my gear on and headed to the ante chamber as it was my turn to join Sam on watch.

BANG! BANG! BANG!

My heart sank as my pulse jumped. This time, it was coming from outside!