L Akers: Shoot Like a Girl

Tarra spoke up. “Nothing, really. It’s just obvious we’re not wanted there.”

“Gabby wants you there. Me and Grayson want you. Where else you gonna go?” he asked.

Tina shrugged her shoulders. “Anywhere but here. We’ll make camp in the woods again. We’re fine.”

Jake looked to Tarra, who answered, “Camping’s fine with me. We’re not staying where we’re not welcome—by everyone.”

Jake shook his head. “How ‘bout this. Y’all come in and help us right the house—all the crap is out now—just in case Puck’s mama comes home, and we’ll talk about a solution. I don’t want you running off into the woods again. And I know Gabby doesn’t. Besides that, we need you.”

Tarra narrowed her eyes at him. “Need us for what?”

He hung his head and kicked a rock, leaving a long pause in the conversation. Finally, he said, “Okay, it’s me that needs you. If I don’t learn to handle a gun better, Grayson’s gonna kick my ass. You said you’re both instructors. Can you teach me? The first time didn’t take, I guess. Just teach me to handle a gun right, and shoot at least as good as y’all do.”

Tina and Tarra shared a knowing look and finally, a real smile. In unison they answered, “Teach you to shoot like a girl ?”

Jake laughed. “Yeah, just don’t say that to Grayson. He doesn’t like to think a woman can shoot better than a man. Gabby holds back when he’s looking, just so she won’t hurt his feelings.”

Tina and Tarra both scoffed, and took note. They were of like-minds, and if the opportunity presented itself, they couldn’t wait to use that line on Grayson.

Tucker watched as Katie stirred the huge cauldron of rice over the fire with a kayak paddle. Her face, neck and chest were covered in a sheen of sweat. Her T-shirt was wet with exertion.

Katie hated not being able to fix herself up like she used to do up until this point in her life. This was a new lifestyle for her and she kept swatting him away, telling him to stop looking at her. But he liked her new rough and tumble look. It was hard for him to concentrate on anything else with her walking around in wet T-shirts and dirty cut-off shorts.

He pulled his eyes away from Katie to the next set-up. Not fifty feet away, another fire burned beneath another pot of food. This one was manned by Kenny, his weird neighbor that had suddenly grown into Tucker’s sidekick. He was surprised Kenny took a turn at the pots, but he couldn’t help but notice Kenny keeping an eye on him, too. It was as though he was going to slip away and do something for fun without him.

Tucker didn’t want to hurt his feelings, but Kenny was about as useful as tits on a bull when it came to anything other than helping the women. He had two thumbs, not much strength to him, and didn’t know an axe from a rake.

Luckily, this neighborhood was big on Halloween. The cauldrons had previously been used as props. After a good clean-out, they were perfect for cooking meals for their big group.

For days, his group had taken turns stirring large pots of food while sweating over hot fires for hours without end. They were wasting time, energy, and firewood—so much firewood.

In addition to the cook-fires, they had their water -fires. Two more hot, smoky fires constantly boiled water for cooking, drinking, and baths for the kids and some of the women.

But not his Katie.

If he wouldn’t have a hot bath or shower, neither would she .

She endured the cold water right alongside him, and they usually managed to warm up pretty quickly afterward. He smiled at that thought.

On the ground near Katie, no less than seven dogs sat at attention, saliva dripping from their chops, hoping to be thrown a scrap. There were more than the seven, too. He’d counted a dozen earlier in the day running around. Now that no one was leaving for work, the dogs were all running free most of the time, usually beside their owners, so that wasn’t a problem. The problem was that less than a week into the event, some people had run out of dog food. When they lined up for evening meals, some juggled more than one plate and fully expected the group to feed their canine companions.

Normally, Tucker was all about dogs. He fed his own two American Bulldogs off the table—when Katie wasn’t looking. His dogs were part of his family, more like fur-covered children, as everyone else in this neighborhood seemed to agree with. But if the power didn’t come back on soon, he’d have to put an end to feeding the animals the food that his family and group would be depending on for their long-term survival. He hoped he’d win the vote on that.

For now, he held his tongue.

This particular morning he’d assigned the teenager crew, including his own four kids, to go out to the woods and drag in dead downed trees. They’d each brought back one . He’d have to give them a bit of a pep talk. The men, and a few women, took turns chopping and splitting. A small group had set up a mop bucket with an attached wringer to hand-wash clothes—mostly underwear and children’s clothes—and hung them to dry.

There was so much work to be done all the time when there was no power. Everyone was busy dawn to dusk, and sometimes longer. At least with this lifestyle, he didn’t have to worry about squeezing in a work-out every day. He was working out all day long, and his muscles were screaming.

He dragged another dead tree away from the pile and began to chop it up, and throw it in the to-be-split pile, when his eye caught Neva, the neighborhood witch—as the kids called her—and her niece, IdaBelle, approach the cooking fires. It was the first time he’d seen them outside their house.

Neva was short and heavyset with long, frizzy unkempt black hair. She had a rough voice that startled most people, so she rarely spoke at all. She wore baggy shirts and long skirts, gypsy-style.

In contrast, IdaBelle was a tall beauty. At twenty-five years old, she was thin but curvy at the same time with long, silky black hair and very-red full lips. She was the object of many a teenage boy’s desires. She was much friendlier in general, but very loyal to her aunt. They had always lived together, and from what anyone could tell, IdaBelle had been raised by Neva.

Neva and IdaBelle had been standoffish since the grid went down, not joining with either his group, or Curt’s group, which were severely divided. Curt, the HOA President, hadn’t been willing to agree to Tucker’s leadership when, against Tucker’s dismay, he’d been voted in as leader.

With hurt pride and anger, Curt had splintered off and took a big chunk of the people with him. Actually, close to half, once word got around to those who weren’t at the vote. Tucker’s group had forty-three people, and Curt’s group had forty. Many of the neighbors hadn’t been home when the grid went down and hadn’t made their way back yet.

IdaBelle carried a very large colorful cloth bag, tied closed at the top. At her aunt’s direction, she struggled to sit it down on the ground. She untied it, revealing a black cast-iron pot inside. She lifted the lid of the pot and even from the distance were Tucker was standing, he could smell the delicious aroma of a rich, meaty beef stew.

He dropped his axe and walked over.

“What’s this?” he asked Neva.

Neva cut her eyes at him, and then nodded to IdaBelle.

“It’s food. We want to contribute to your group,” IdaBelle explained.

Katie stepped forward, wiping her hands on her T-shirt, and gave them a warm smile. “Thank you so much. It’ll go great over this rice I’m cooking now.”