Silent Interruption (Book 3): An Uncertain Passage Page 9

  Don’t lose faith. A rational thought screamed to make itself heard in the din of Carl’s pessimism. Some places are safer than others. You just have to press on.

  Carl chewed on his bottom lip. Now he wanted to reach Camp Jefferson more than ever. He yearned for the safety of a chain link fence, for the company of armed soldiers, and for the surroundings of a military camp. Maybe Camp Jefferson was no guarantee of a bulwark against the lawless, but it was the only place he could think of that could house his friends in an otherwise darkened world.

  Footsteps approaching from behind drew Carl’s attention. Harold was clutching papers in his arms. Carl let the binoculars dangle from his neck. Harold was coming with important news.

  “Bastards took all their IDs,” he said. “Driver’s licenses, Social Security cards, library cards, wallets, the whole shebang.” Then he held up the papers he had found. “But they didn’t run across these. These are their birth certificates. I found them tucked away in the attic.”

  Carl nodded. “Who were they?”

  Harold flipped the papers over and read from each one. “They’re the Sevigny family. Brandon was the husband. Brandon Arthur Sevigny, about forty years old. Wife was Sarah, thirty-seven. The two boys were Anthony and Brandon Junior. Brandon Junior was the little one in the closet.”

  “I see,” Carl said.

  Harold clutched the papers back against his chest. “They seemed like good people. This is one hell of a bad turn.” Then he approached Carl a little closer, his shadow crossing Carl’s. “Well, now that we know who they are, nothing’s stopping us from preparing…”

  “Don’t say it.”

  “The grave markers,” Harold finished. “You said we should bury them and I agree. We have enough people to keep watch. They need our muscles to break the ground.”

  Carl fiddled with the binoculars in his hands. “Fine, but only if I get to burn the house down afterward.”

  “Now, you don’t mean that,” Harold said.

  “It’s tainted. It’ll never get rid of the smell of death. Might as well make it hallowed ground by making sure no one else can use it. If we had any salt, I’d sow the ground with it.”

  “Wait a second. What if other survivors show up? They may need the house for shelter,” Harold said.

  “Who’s going to show up but more marauders, more murderers…”

  “Now, quit talking like that. We ran into a bad situation, but that doesn’t mean it always will turn out that way. One day we run into a tragedy. The next, who knows?” Harold stared at the horizon.

  Carl admitted Harold had a point. They were bound to have bad days. Who was to say, however, that the next day wouldn’t be better? Perhaps once he got the terrible duty of the burials complete, he would think with a clearer head.

  Carl looked toward the grassy field that made up the house’s backyard. Shyanne was playing tag with Ricardo, Thomas, and Matthew. “They’re keeping Shyanne happy,” he said.

  “That they are,” Harold said. “They never had a sister. I think they’re fascinated by what it’s like to play with a little girl. Those two are creatures of the forest. They take after their dad, after all. We homeschooled those two, my wife and I. I had a tutor take over when she passed.” Carl passed the binoculars to Harold as he talked. “Now life’s going to be their teacher. They’re going to have to learn from us, from experience, and from everything they come in contact with.”

  Carl couldn’t suppress his dark mood. Seeing the children at play didn’t help. “Well, some things children shouldn’t have to learn too soon,” Carl said before he started walking off. “Do me a favor and have your boys keep Shyanne happy. I don’t want her to deal with this mess.”

  Midmorning was nearing the transition to noon. All of the men had been out digging graves in the backyard close to the home. Lorenzo had discovered the shovels in the garage. Carl thanked him for finding the tools. He felt glad that he did not have to search the very place where Brandon had been slaughtered.

  Carl wiped his forehead. Four graves. Four graves for four people. The mounds of dirt beside the holes easily would fill them in.

  Preston finished off the grave Lorenzo was working on. He went inside to help prepare the bodies. They wrapped the Sevignys in blankets and sheets taken from the beds and the closets. Carl insisted they only use clean coverings. He refused to use the sheets that Sarah Sevigny had been raped and killed on.

  Farther away from the home, Tara and Alicia were working on wooden posts that would serve as the grave markers. Rupert was keeping an eye on Michael, who was close to the hill where Carl’s company had set up camp. Carl wanted Michael isolated until they moved on. He would take no chances that any of this horror would trigger Michael’s traumatic memories.

  Shyanne broke away from the boys to walk over to Tara and Alicia. The little girl wanted to help. Carl grimaced, but he was too far away to object. The two ladies readily agreed. Carl didn’t want Shyanne involved, but he understood that even a young girl couldn’t fully escape the darkness of this world. Besides, it was a wonderful act of compassion. People should exercise it whenever possible. God knows, it’s too easy to do the opposite, he thought.

  Soon the graves were deep enough. Carl could not ignore the inevitable. It was time for the burials.

  The members of the party were lined up in front of the freshly covered graves, all except for Rupert and Michael, who remained by the hill beyond the home’s property. Carl had arranged for everyone to stand before the four burial plots after they all were filled.

  The process was agonizing, particularly when it came time to bury Brandon Jr. No one wanted to do it. Carl stepped up to wrap the small boy in his own blanket from his bedroom. The boy couldn’t have weighed more than forty pounds. Carl wondered if the bastards who had killed this family even knew how young the boy was who they had shot in that closet. No, it likely wouldn’t have mattered.

  Carl remembered the slaughters he had witnessed in the Middle East. He had witnessed the aftermaths of bomb blasts in Iraqi markets and neighborhoods. Blood was scattered all across the ground. Bodies were torn open, with organs and entrails spilled out. The scene in the Sevigny house was not as gory, but it still was startling. Perhaps because they were murdered up close by their killers. A bomb, by contrast, is indiscriminate in its killing. Although set with murderous intent, the time and intensity of the blast still were carried out by mindless timers and weights inside the bomb itself.

  With the family buried, it was time to say a few words. The burial seemed strange in that no relatives of the Sevigny family were present. The words of comfort were for the benefit of total strangers who never had met them when they were alive.

  Carl wanted to say something. He felt obligated to do so, but he was emotionally drained. He couldn’t even muster the voice to say a prayer. Admittedly, he found it difficult to appeal to the Deity now for comfort, and a small part of him resented the fact that this carnage had been allowed. But he quickly put that complaint aside, for he understood well that bad things happened to good people all the time and that comprehending the ultimate reasons for such was beyond his reach.

  Harold, on the other hand, was willing to step up and offer some words. Carl listened intensely. This man wasn’t much older than Carl, yet he almost seemed sage-like in his words, no doubt because he had experienced some personal loss and had lived a life of self-sufficiency more than many people, including Carl himself.

  “I think it’s proper that we say a prayer for these folks,” Harold said.

  Everyone bowed their heads. Harold prayed out loud, asking God to commit the souls of the Sevignys into his divine presence. Carl found it much easier to silently agree with Harold’s words than to speak a prayer himself. Carl also took the time to petition the Almighty for serenity and wisdom, as this encounter had filled him with a certain amount of anxiety about what the future would hold for them.

  “In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost, Amen.” Harol
d then raised his head. Everyone else did likewise.

  Carl swallowed. Eyes were turning to him. The question of what they had to do next still rested on his shoulders.

  “Alright,” he said, “we’ve done what we’ve had to do for these people. Now let’s get out of here.”

  With the burials completed, the group hiked back to the other side of the hill, near the train tracks. Lorenzo asked if they would continue with their journey, but Carl decided they were too wrung out from the day’s unpleasant tasks to begin their trek anew. They would rest for the night behind this hill. However, there still was the question of what to do next. Finding the murdered Sevignys had rattled the party, and Ricardo’s mom had voiced the idea of turning back to the suburbs from which they had come.

  “The countryside’s a gamble,” Harold said. “The isolation’s good. You’re free of most of the problems that a heavily populated area can present, plus we can’t overlook the resources that are out here, the crops we could grow, the water we could draw from streams, and the animals we could hunt. In a pinch, we could also find berries and plants to forage.”

  Harold’s frown deepened a little. “But the flip side is you’re either left alone or you’re all alone out here, that is, except for the bad guys who might show up at your door. Then your life is in your own hands. If you’re not armed and, even if you are, then you’re at the mercy of your attacker, if he even knows what the concept of mercy is.”

  “Then we have to go back,” Ricardo’s mom said.

  “It would be a sound choice.” Preston looked from person to person. “It’s simple logic. In a community you’re just much safer.” However, Preston didn’t speak with the conviction he used to project. He had been uncertain about leaving the mall in the first place to come out here, yet he didn’t seem too eager to turn around.

  “But we’ve come a long way in a very short period.” He looked at Carl. “Do you know how much farther we have to reach Camp Jefferson?”

  Carl nodded. “I looked at the map. If we keep walking north without breaks, early evening, maybe even late afternoon tomorrow, if we set out early.”

  “An army base sounds safer than a suburb,” Alicia said. Beside her, Lorenzo nodded.

  “Mister Mathers.” Ricardo’s mom’s eyes met Carl’s. “Will the army be there? They have not come to us so far.”

  Carl looked away from her gaze for a moment. “I don’t know. In this kind of catastrophe anything could happen. With the base’s proximity to Washington D.C., it’s possible they could have sent people up there to find out who’s in charge, if anyone’s in charge. I’d expect, along with trying to reestablish communications, they also would try helping survivors. The base could be set up as a shelter.” He bit on his bottom lip. “I don’t know. Even an army base won’t have the resources to help many people for long. But I still think it’s our best bet.”

  “If it is, then let’s not stop at any more houses,” Ricardo’s mom said.

  Carl silently agreed. Now he didn’t feel like going near anything that resembled human civilization between here and Camp Jefferson—no suburb, no town, not even a small farmhouse. He trusted no place now to offer sanctuary except for the army base that lay a day ahead of them.

  Chapter Twelve

  As Lorenzo crossed to the other side of the hill, he called out, “Alicia!” Everyone had camped out on the side of the hill facing away from the farmhouse, so why would his wife venture over here? Was something wrong?

  Everything’s wrong, Lorenzo thought. But he figured after the horror they just had witnessed in the Sevigny home that Alicia would not want to be alone, and certainly not as the sun was setting.

  “Here.” Alicia made her appearance.

  She was standing by a sleeping bag nestled in the shadow of the hill. She also had changed her clothes, though Lorenzo was puzzled by her choice. She was wearing the jeans she had found in the mall and appeared even less comfortable in the tight pants then when she first wore them while they ate the pizza cooked by Eric Valenti. She stood very still, hovering over the sleeping bag, smiling at her husband, though Lorenzo could detect a bit of pain in her smile.

  “Hey,” he said, “I was wondering where you disappeared to.”

  “I just needed my privacy for a moment.” Alicia ran her hands down her hips. “Today, well, it’s shaken me up.” She shivered as Lorenzo approached. “I didn’t want to let it on, not in front of the little kids.” With Lorenzo now brushing against her, she looked into his eyes. “Please tell me they’re okay. Please say they’re not sobbing or crying.”

  “They’re just fine.” Lorenzo reached out to Alicia, who started sobbing and leaned into his arms.

  “Oh God, Lorenzo. It’s so horrible! Why the hell do these things have to happen? They were a beautiful family! Beautiful wife, beautiful kids!” Alicia cried out as she wept in her husband’s embrace.

  “I know, baby, I know,” Lorenzo said as he rocked his wife. She cried for minutes more until she looked up from his chest, wiping her eyes, though she allowed him to keep holding her. “You did very good handling yourself today, and with Shyanne and the rest.”

  Alicia wiped her eyes again. “Thank you. And you were good today also, helping to bury everyone and everything.” She reached up and wrapped her arms around his neck. “I love you very much.”

  Lorenzo smiled. “I love you too.” Then he gently kissed her on the forehead.

  “I would be devastated if I lost you, if someone got you just like they killed that family.”

  “I know.” Lorenzo took hold of Alicia’s hands. “But I won’t let that happen. We’ve got good people with us and we have a chance to find a new home.”

  Alicia bowed her head. “I know, Baby. I’m just so, so torn up.”

  “I know.”

  Alicia then took hold of Lorenzo’s hands. “And you know what I need.” She placed Lorenzo’s hands on her hips. “Right here, right now.”

  Lorenzo glanced behind Alicia to get a look at his wife’s derriere. He understood now what she had had in mind all along. “I’m up for it, but someone might hear us.”

  Alicia smiled. “I’ll try to keep it down, but you know how I can get.”

  Tara held the lantern, using it for light as she patrolled the camp. Night had fallen, but nobody appeared to be asleep. She couldn’t blame them. Anyone who closed their eyes might relive the horrors of the day in their dreams. The group was scattered across the grass in small groups, but never so far away that they were out of sight.

  She passed by Shyanne, Ricardo, Thomas, and Matthew. The four were seated in a circle playing with a deck of cards. Ricardo’s mother was seated behind them, watching the children play, with a smile on her face. As Tara passed by, Ricardo’s mom smiled and waved at her. Tara waved back.

  A few more steps took her to the end of the camp. As she approached the hill, she realized she had not seen Lorenzo or Alicia. Where did they go? Did they wander off? Carl had warned against leaving the camp without telling anyone.

  Suddenly, a shout cut through the air. That was Alicia! The shout was accompanied by a loud gasp. Tara broke into a run. As she reached the hill, she heard Alicia cry out, “Oh God!”

  Someone’s attacking Alicia! Tara rounded the hill, her hand on her gun, ready to take out whoever was hurting Alicia.

  But when she got to the other side of the hill, she found a completely different scene.

  “Holy shit!” Tara cried out.

  Tara, resting against the side of the hill facing the train tracks, clutched her legs as she waited for Alicia to arrive. Tara recognized that Alicia needed some time to get, well, decent. She tried not to think about what she had seen and simply waited for her friend to arrive.

  She didn’t have to wait long. Alicia showed up all dressed in her hiking gear from the morning. “Hey,” Alicia said with a smile. Then she slid down to the grass so she could lay on her side. She was not sitting down, and Tara understood why, though she loathed the idea of disc
ussing it.

  “Hey,” Tara said, not looking directly at her.

  “I’m sorry for what you saw back there,” Alicia said. “I just want you to know that Lorenzo wasn’t hurting me. I swear it to God’s heaven.”

  Tara nodded. “I think I understand. It’s just seeing Lorenzo...” Tara started to stammer. “…and you…”

  “Bent over with my cheeks as red as roses,” Alicia finished.

  “Yes!” Tara grasped her head with both hands and screeched. “I’ll never unsee that for as long as I live.”

  “It’s all fine. I love having my hubby spank me.”

  “No, stop!” Tara put her hands over her ears. “Look, I know we’re adults, and I know what married and even unmarried couples like to do behind closed doors, but I really don’t want to talk about it.” She released her hand from her ears. “You understand?”

  Alicia nodded. “Sure. I’m sorry if I scared you.” Then she laughed. “Although you should have seen your face!” She ran her fingers through the hill’s grass. “I know it looked strange, but it’s a good way to help purge my bad emotions. You know, when it’s been a bad day and you just want a release.” She quickly added, “I won’t give you any more grisly details. It’s just something that works for me.” Alicia brushed back a lock of her brown hair from her face. “Lorenzo’s amazing. He’s my rock.”

  Now Tara could look Alicia in the face. “It’s great to have somebody like that.”

  “And you do too. What, you forget your boyfriend exists?”