Mindy McGinnis - Not a Drop to Drink

The woman disentangled the baby’s fist from her hair and handed the bundle to her husband. She walked to the church with her head down. Lynn could hear the high-pitched wailing of the baby from her position in the trees, even as the father rocked it in his arms. The woman knocked on the door of the church, and Gap Tooth—Roger, Vera said his name was—opened it.

Behind him, she caught a flash of black and white, and Lynn nearly rolled out of the tree in surprise. There was a cow in the church, a dairy cow. There was a pail swinging from the father’s elbow as he walked the baby up and down the porch of the brick house. The mother disappeared inside the church with Roger. Lynn hoped the doors were thick enough to stop the cries of her child while she did what she had to do to feed it.

Other traders came. Tall Red stayed on his porch, where a line began to form. He sat at a table with a pencil and paper, figured out what the traders wanted, what they’d brought to trade for it, and whether or not it was acceptable. One man brought a five-gallon jug of gasoline to the table and walked away with an entire deer carcass over his shoulder.

Those less lucky traded their own bodies or the bodies of their women. Tall Red never took them into the house himself, but Blue Coat, Roger, and a man with a black beard each took payment at different times during the day. One woman came begging for water, empty buckets in her hands and children clinging to her legs. Green Hat played with the children to distract them while Black Beard took the woman down to the stream far longer than necessary to gather water.

Lynn decided not to shoot Green Hat.

Tall Red dickered extensively with a man who had driven a truck loaded down with blankets, pallets of canned vegetables, and a mattress. Tall Red kept shaking his head, and the man walked back to his truck, emerging with a pack of cigarettes, which turned the tide. Tall Red scribbled on a piece of paper and handed it to him, directing the man toward the town hall. The guard there looked at the paper, spat, and stuck it in his back pocket. Roger and Black Beard emptied the truck while the man followed the guard out of town toward the east. They appeared minutes later dragging a wood splitter behind them.

The sound of an engine caused Lynn to jolt. A huge truck with no muffler roared into town, the bed so loaded with goods that it rested on the back axles. Two men jumped down from the bed and began unloading the truck, carting their loot into the town hall where the guard kept a tally. Two more men emerged from the cab. Lynn began counting on her fingers. The presence of the looters swung the odds in their favor. A long way in their favor.

The sun was beginning to swing back toward the horizon when one man took a bundle of food to the cell tower, where the sentry lowered down a bucket for his lunch, taking a leisurely piss off the side afterward. Roger led the cow from the church to an overgrown yard and tied it to a post to graze. The looting party gathered on the porch with Tall Red, their feet propped on the railings, heads lolled back in idle conversation. The stream of visitors slowed, then stopped entirely as the long shadows drew dark marks in the old snow.

The sentry came down from the tower after dusk, his skills rendered useless. The guard at the town hall switched out with a less vigilant looter, and the unfamiliar glow of electricity came from inside the houses. The cow lowed to be let back inside and Roger returned it to the church. The slight breeze that had been blowing died down enough that Lynn could hear the squeaking of bedsprings and the whir of generators, while Tall Red remained on the covered porch, keeping watch over all.

There were lights still on in some houses when Lynn tumbled out of her tree, legs numb with disuse. She flexed her neck and arms, keeping her eyes on the town below her. There was still a guard in front of the town hall; with her naked eyes, she could make out his dim, dark shape beneath the electric light that shone over the parking lot. The houses at the west and east ends of town each had a guard on the porch. Beyond the arc of the warm glow of electricity, Lynn could see nothing. There could be guards in the dark, there could be no one.

Lynn crept east through the woods. The man who traded for the wood splitter came prepared with a truckload of goods in exchange. If the men were willing to part with one they probably had more, and a guard to watch over them as well. She’d counted eleven men in all, and didn’t need the surprise of a twelfth if she and Stebbs chose to attack.

She crossed the road to the east and fought her way through brush to the stream. The moon came out, illuminating in stark brilliance that there was no choice.

She burst through Stebbs’ door without knocking, causing him to whirl on her with a frying pan raised above his head.

“Christ child, Lynn! What are you doing?”

“They’re building a dam.”

“Shit,” Stebbs said when they crested the ridge. “You weren’t kiddin’.”

“Nope.”

Machinery littered the meadow on the far bank of the stream, skeletal and pale in the moonlight. A dark scar marred the earth around the stream where they’d widened a reservoir area, a massive pile of stone stood nearby, menacingly solid. Stebbs took Lynn’s binoculars and squinted into them.

“Shit,” he said again. “They’ve got a decent-size reservoir dug already, and plenty of stone to stop the river anytime they want. They probably couldn’t work in this mud, so they’re waiting either for a freeze or the ground to dry out.”

“Either way, they’d have Eli and Lucy out of water in a week,” Lynn said.

“Them and anyone else downstream who counts on it for water.” Stebbs handed the binoculars back to Lynn, and surveyed the dam area. “Shit.”

“When Lucy was sick, you said you and me aren’t the kind of people who don’t like situations we can’t control. You said we need to be able to do something.”

“I remember.”

“I think it’s time we did something.”

“I know it. But what?”

She regarded him critically for a moment, biting her lip. “How’ve you been feeling?”

Stebbs shifted his weight awkwardly on his bad foot. “I’ve been better, mostly back before I was cripple.”

“Can you lay still for a while?”

“Laying still is something I’m good for.”

“You eat anything lately?”

Stebbs forehead creased in confusion. “I ate well enough tonight. Why?”

“C’mere. I want to introduce you to a tree friend of mine.”

Stebbs was true to his word, making less rustling than Lynn, and even managing to fall asleep on his perch in the tree. Lynn had given him the long, wide limb she’d used earlier to stretch out on. She was nestled comfortably against the trunk where the limbs made a V, hugging her knees against her chest. She rested her head against her canteen, allowing the gentle swaying of the branches to lull her into a decent rest, if not sleep. The taut muscles in her back and legs screamed for a break, and she took turns flexing them as the gray light of dawn appeared on the horizon. She hissed at Stebbs to wake him, and they watched as the sentry climbed the cell tower.

“He come out at dawn yesterday too?”

“Earlier.”

Stebbs made a noise in his throat and borrowed her binoculars again. “Keep them,” she said. “I’ve seen.”

Through her rifle scope she watched the men go about the same duties as they had the day before. The guard who had been on her roof reclaimed his position in front of the town hall, and Roger brought the cow out of the church to graze.

“Milk,” Stebbs muttered to himself. “Almost forgot such a thing existed. Looks like they’re keeping their stockpile in the town hall, since it’s the only place that’s guarded. The cow and the women being the exception. You got to realize that we start shooting, some of those girls could get hurt.”