The interstate, at this instant, had become the wrong neighborhood. The way the four construction workers stood and gazed at him and the car—the one car with a motor still running—was triggering a warning. One of them was obviously drunk, the type that struck John as a belligerent drunk.
Something was changing, had changed, in just the last few hours. If alone, John might have chanced it, and chances were nothing at all would go wrong, but he was a father; his two girls and his mother-in-law would be in that car.
“Come on, buddy,” the one worker said, his voice now edged with a taunting edge. “Help the lady. We’ll push her over for you; then we’ll climb over and you can give us a lift as well.”
She looked back at the four.
“I don’t need your help,” she said coldly.
The drunk laughed softly.
John felt trapped, especially as he spared a quick glance back to Jennifer. Suppose the car was taken right now; it would be a long haul back for her.
At that moment he caught a glance from the truck driver. There was a slight nod and ever so casually he let his right hand, which had been concealed behind his back, drift into view. He was holding a light-caliber pistol. There was a moment of gut tightening for John, but the exchange of glances said it all. “It’s ok, buddy; I’m watching things here.”
John looked back to the woman.
“Ma’am, I’m sorry, I’ve got to get my kids home. You just walk a little less than a mile to the west and you’ll find food and shelter.”
“Rotten shit,” the drunk growled, and moved to start climbing the fence.
“Girls, into the car,” John snapped, and there was no hesitation. The doors slammed behind them. John backed up to the car, the drunk had a hard time negotiating his footing. John slipped into the driver’s seat, slammed into reverse, and floored it.
“Son of a bitch, all we want is a lift,” and as the drunk half-dangled from the fence he flipped John off.
Flooring the gas, John continued to back up all the way to the turnoff to their road, threw the gear into forward, and roared up the dirt road.
“John Matherson, I can’t believe you left that lady like that. Especially with those men around her.”
“I have a family,” John said coldly, looking into the rearview mirror to where Elizabeth and Jennifer were in the backseat, both of them silent. He could sense their accusation, that Dad had chickened out. He shook his head and said nothing.
He pulled into the driveway, the dogs started to bound around him but then, sensing his mood, shifted their attention to Jennifer and Elizabeth.
“Girls, it’s getting dark. Remember the hurricane last year when we all piled into my bedroom? It’ll be like that tonight. Elizabeth, get out the Coleman lantern; you know how to light it. Jennifer, you help her.”
“Come on, Dad; I think you’re being a little uptight.”
“Just do it, Elizabeth,” he said slowly and forcefully.
“All right.”
The two headed to the door, Jennifer pestered Elizabeth as to what her birthday present was.
“And Elizabeth, after you get the lantern lit, help Jennifer with her injection. Don’t keep the medication out of the fridge any longer than you have to.”
“Ok, Dad.”
“Then feed the dogs.”
“Sure, Dad.”
The girls went in. John fished in his pocket for a cigarette, pulled it out, and lit it.
“Are you going back to help that woman?”
“No.”
Jen was silent for a moment. “I’m surprised at you, John.”
“I know I’m right. I go down to that highway and those bastards might take this car.”
“But what about her? The woman? Does it bother you?” He looked at Jen sharply. “What the hell do you mean?”
“That woman. And there was another one with a small child. They could be raped.” He shook his head.
“No, not yet. Those guys weren’t all that bad. The drunk was out of hand; the loudmouth one was just trying to show off in front of his buddies and the woman. Sure, it’s strange, our car running, the others not, and if I went back down they’d be tempted to take it. Or worse yet, I’d be stuck all night running a shuttle service for everyone stalled on the highway, and running into yet more drunks with a bad attitude.
“But rape? No, too many others down there are ok. Everyone else is sober; the truck driver down there had a gun in his hand, though you might not of seen it. He’ll keep order. That woman and the others will be ok. I wouldn’t worry about that yet.”
“Yet?”
He sighed, shook his head, let his finished cigarette fall, then fished out another one and began to smoke it.
“I’d like you to stay here tonight, Jen. The girls would love it.”
“You worried about me?”
“Frankly, yes. I don’t like the idea of you driving around alone at night in this monster,” and as he spoke he slapped the hood of the Edsel. “I’ll stay.”
He looked down at her, surprised there was no argument, about the cat needing to be put out or some other excuse. It was dark enough now he couldn’t see her face, but he could sense her voice. She was afraid.
“It’s so dark,” she whispered.
He looked around. It teas dark. There wasn’t a single light down in the town, except for what appeared to be the flicker of a Coleman lamp, some candles. All the houses rimming the valley were dark as well. No reflected lights from the highway, none of the annoying high-intensity lithium glare from the service stations at the exit, not a light showing from the skyline of Asheville. There was a dull red glow, what looked to be the fire up on the side of the mountain towards Craggy Dome.
The stars arced the heavens with a magnificent splendor. He hadn’t seen stars like this since being out in the desert in Saudi Arabia… before the oil wells started to burn. There was absolutely no ambient light to drown the stars out. It was magnificent and, he found, calming as well.
“Head on in, Jen. I’ll be along in a minute.”
She left his side, moving slowly. From inside the house he could now see the glare of the Coleman and, a moment later, heard laughter, which was reassuring.
He finished the second cigarette and let it drop, watching as it glowed on the concrete pavement of the driveway. It slowly winked out.
Opening the door of his Talon, he slipped in and turned the switch. Nothing, not even a stutter from the starter motor, no dashboard lights… nothing.
He reached under the seat, pulled out a heavy six D-cell flashlight, and flicked the switch. It came on.
When he went into the house the girls were already making a game out of camping out.
“Dad, Jennifer’s new tester doesn’t work,” Elizabeth said.
“What?”
“The new blood tester. I found the old one, though, and we used that. She’s ok.”
“Fine, honey.”
Somehow, that little fact now did set off more alarm bells within. The new testing kit was a high-tech marvel with a built-in computer that kept a downloadable record of her blood levels. In another week she was supposed to be fitted out with one of the new implanted insulin pumps… and something told him he should be glad they had not yet done so.
“Ok.”
Elizabeth started to turn away. He took a deep breath.
“Elizabeth?”
“Yeah, Dad?”
“Ah, you and Ben,” he felt embarrassed suddenly, “you know, is there anything we should talk about?”
“Come on, Dad. Now?”
“Yeah, you’re right. Get your sister settled in and let’s call it a night.”
“Dad, it’s not even eight yet.”
“Like the hurricane, kid. We went four days then and by the end of it we were asleep when it got dark and up at dawn.”
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