L Akers - Shoot Like a Girl

Her head dropped and fresh tears plopped on her lap. “I told them… I said they’d get killed on that contraption. I told them.”

Jake stood up and stepped out the door, giving her a bit of space to mourn a moment, and nearly ran smack into Grayson.

Tina and Grayson had been standing on the porch, listening. Jake quickly sucked through his nose, and swiped at his eyes. Grayson patted his shoulder and walked past him, leaving him with Tina, who had tears streaming down her own face as well.

He approached the woman and moved in front of her, crouching down. “Vera, my name is Grayson. I’m sorry for your loss. The funeral home is closed for business, but if you’d let us, we’ll gladly bury your family here. When we’re finished, you can come with us. We’ll make room for you in our own family for now.”

Vera looked Grayson over and then leaned forward, laying her head on his shoulder. He patted her blue-ish curls as she cried for a few moments, then pulled back and cleared her throat, resulting in another coughing fit. Grayson stood and patted her back until she could talk.

“There’s shovels in the garage,” she said. “You take care of that, and then you can go on home. No need to come back. No use wasting food and water on me. We’re all going to die, anyway. Old people first. Then all these pill-heads that are all over the place. They’ll suffer the longest. The power’s not coming back on. There’ll be no more food. Everyone will starve eventually… you, and all your friends. The children even. Starving is a painful, slow death, and you’ll all be fighting over the last bean and grain of rice. I’ve got no mind to see all that up close and personal.”

Grayson crouched down beside her again. “You won’t. I’ve got food, and plenty of water. My wife and I will take care of you. We all will,” he assured her.

“You’ll run out, too. You’ll see. You can’t save everybody, mister.” She stuck her hand into her deep pocket and came back with small ball of yarn, knitting needles, and a pair of scissors. She dropped the yarn and needles in her lap and held the scissors up.

Grayson jerked back in surprise, startled at the sharp object so close to his face.

“Bury us all together, under the apple tree in the backyard.” And with that said, she cut her oxygen tube in half.

Emma jumped off the wagon before Elmer had pulled it into the barn, and headed to the house, looking for Edith. On the way, she passed Elmer’s truck, packed down with food and supplies. She wondered where Edith was planning to go. She ran up the porch and flung open the screen door.

The kitchen was empty, and a complete mess. Food remains and trash were piled on every counter. The sink overflowed with dirty dishes. This was very unlike how Emma had seen it the last time she’d been here, when the whole house had been neat as a pin.

Edith must be sick.

“Edith?” she yelled, holding the screen door open as she looked in. “It’s me, Emma. I came back with Elmer.” There was no answer. The house was quiet—too quiet.

Emma quietly pulled the screen door shut, not letting it slam. She didn’t want to startle the old woman. She stepped into the kitchen. “Edith!” she called out again, receiving no answer. The house was small. A kitchen and den on one side, and two bedrooms and a bathroom on the other, separated by a short hallway.

Surely, Edith would hear her, if she was home.

Turning around, Emma opened the screen door to go back outside to look. Maybe she was feeding the chickens behind the barn? She took one step, and heard a rustling behind her. She whipped around.

Trunk was standing in the doorway leading into the living room. His clothes and hair were rumpled, as though he’d just got up from a nap. He yawned. “Oh… hey. You surprised me.” He stood looking blankly at her a moment. “Let me start again… Howdy , darling.” He reached for his gun, as a wide smile spread over his face. “You’re not gonna believe this, but after you ladies left me at the rest area, I figured out something… me and the boys drove right through your town just before we met up with you. Our home base is only about twenty miles from your county. How’s that for a coincidence?”

Emma whipped around and ran like the wind out of the house, jumped off the porch, and dashed to the barn, where her gun—and Elmer—were.

Breathlessly, she skidded around the corner and to her amazement found Elmer trying to corner a pig. “Where’d you come from, Bacon Bit? Come ‘ere…” The old man was hopping left to right with his arms spread wide, trying to block the pig from running by. If it wasn’t for a biker standing in his living room, Emma would have laughed.

She stood transfixed watching him a second. That was the pig from the rest area—tutu and everything, although it was filthy at this point. Did they walk with that pig all the way here? She hadn’t seen their motorcycles or any other vehicle outside. Just Elmer’s truck. She blinked her eyes rapidly, pulling herself out of her stupor. “Elmer!” she panted. “They’re here! The bikers…” she sucked in a breath and pointed frantically. “In your house!”

Elmer stood up straight and grabbed his shotgun that was leaned against the open stall wall. The pig squealed happily and ran past him, out into the yard. “Where’s my Edith?”

“I don’t know. I called for her, but she didn’t answer. I didn’t see her either.”

His eyes went wide. “Get your gun, girl. Quick.”

Elmer checked his shotty to be sure it was loaded, hurried to the end of the wagon with Emma, and covered the wide-open door of the barn while she jumped up and grabbed her pistol. She couldn’t believe her stupidity in leaving it there in the first place. She racked the slide, putting one in the chamber, and jumped down, her heart beating wildly.

Trunk had found them after all. How had he known they’d been here? Where was Edith? Emma couldn’t lie to herself. That man gave her nightmares. Her courage from earlier was nowhere to be found. Instead, her body vibrated with fear as they ran out of the barn.

Elmer pointed to the right, his liver-spotted, wrinkled hand shaking in the air. “Peek in through the windows. If you see ‘em, shoot ‘em,” he said. “But don’t hit Edith!” He hurried to the left of the house, both of them avoiding the back door.

Emma took off, ducking under one window that was too high for her to shoot through and squatting beside the next window. She listened.

She could hear voices.

Leaning closer with her gun held up high against the wall, she tried to make out if she heard Edith. But only a man’s voice came through loud and clear. “It’s just the little sister and the old man. Try not to hit the girl, but kill ‘em both if you have to.”

Emma shuddered, and then leaned in to take a peek. The same two men she’d seen with Trunk at the rest area were with him now. The biggest one had a bandage wrapped around his massive arm; his wound was bleeding through. A patch on his leather vest said, “Smalls.”

While Trunk paced to the screen door and back to the den doorway, the other two men were stuffing ammo and bathroom supplies into bags; soap, shampoo and other things they could find. “Hurry up!” he said.

Suddenly, a shotgun blast thundered through the house; Emma flinched and ducked down low, and then popped up to look in the window.

The men grabbed their bags and ran straight out the front door, and seconds later Elmer was standing in the den, a curl of black smoke twirling out the end of his shotgun. He’d come through the back door.