They spent the remainder of their time at the table eating in silence.
“You said the power grid has been down for eleven days. Do you know what caused it?” Colby asked as they made their way into a huge red barn, a hundred yards from the cozy two-story farmhouse.
“What I’ve been able to glean from the emergency broadcast is that it was some form of attack on America. No specifics have been given. Everyone must shelter in place and wait for updates and help.”
“And have you seen any?”
“Help?” He laughed, shaking his head. “I mean, there has been an evacuation."
“I forgot to ask. Where are we?”
“Merced County, California. You’re about two miles outside the town of Gustine. Does that ring any bells?”
“I wish it did,” he replied, shaking his head. Inside the barn, there were six cows in stalls. Outside they had a hen house and nearby a field with seven horses. As Jeb showed him how to milk one of the cows, Colby continued to pepper him with questions in the hope that it might spark something. “This town — Gustine. What’s the situation like?”
Jeb glanced at him. “Troubling.”
“In what way?”
He inhaled deeply. “It’s a small town. Close to six thousand people. The police department had their work cut out for them when the lights went out and the cars stopped. They had eleven employees. Do the math. Trying to maintain order wasn’t easy.”
“They had?”
“Had what?”
“You said they had eleven people working for them.”
His head bowed. “There is a bad element in town. Always has been. A few took matters into their own hands — home invasions, breaking into businesses — your general shenanigans. Now don’t get me wrong. Most of the town are good people. Hard-working folk who wouldn’t dream of doing such things to their neighbors, but you don’t need many to get the ball rolling. Once supplies are taken, others get desperate, desperation breeds rash decisions, rash decisions can lead to unlawful behavior, and so on. It’s had a bit of a domino effect,” he said as he pulled out a full bucket of milk and placed it down near the stall door with another. The milk sloshed around, some of it spilling over the lip. “By day eight, the first police officer was killed in a looting spree. It got worse after that.”
“But isn’t there a sheriff’s department for the county?”
“There is, except they have their hands full. Merced is a big county. Look…”
He was about to say something when they heard horses approaching. Jeb jerked his head toward the barn doors. “Stay here.” He walked to the far end and within seconds came hurrying back. “Follow me, quickly.”
“What is it?”
“No time to explain, just go up to the second level, get down behind the haystacks. Whatever happens, no matter what you hear, don’t come out. You understand?”
Colby nodded and climbed the ladder. The second floor gave him a good view of the barn, the cows, a few horses in stalls, and Jeb waving for him to get down.
“Jebediah!” a gruff voice bellowed from outside.
Colby stayed low and approached a barn door that was opened to load hay into the upper level. He cracked it open ever so slightly to get a look at who was outside. There were three men on horses. Ragged in appearance. Dirty looking. Gaunt faces. They looked like the homeless, except for the AR-15s strapped to their back. Jeb came out and crossed the short distance, cleaning his hands with a rag he’d taken out of his back pocket.
“How can I help you, gents?”
“Where is he?”
“Where’s who?”
“Don’t be coy with us. You know.”
There was a pause. Jeb shifted from one foot to the next. “You’ll need to be more specific.”
The man got down off the horse. He had a thick goatee, and blond hair, he was around five foot nine and sporting a circular burn on the left side of his face as if someone had pressed his face against a stove. He removed his AR-15 and thrust the butt of it into Jeb’s face, causing him to crumple. “Is that specific enough?” He loomed over him as Jeb cupped the rag over his bloody nose. “Now answer the question.”
“All right. All right.” Jeb raised a defensive hand. “I buried him. Okay?”
“Really? I want to see that burial ground.”
“It’s out in the field. Nothing more than a pile of dirt. Nothing to see.”
“I’ll be the judge of that. Get up.”
Jeb gave a nod, then goatee turned and pointed to the other two. “Gather what we need and once Jeb shows me the body, we’ll be on our way.”
The other two rode over to the field where the horses were.
“Hey, hold on a minute, you can’t take those horses.”
“We can take whatever the hell we like. You know the agreement.”
“I don’t have an agreement.”
“Just because you don’t agree, it doesn’t mean Spider hasn’t got one. We’re taking the horses. Now is that going to be a problem?”
Jeb stumbled forward, clutching his face. “Please. That’s my livelihood.”
“Not anymore.”
“Look, you can’t…”
Before he could get the words out, the guy spun around and backhanded him to the ground. “You were about to say?” He loomed over him. “Now get up, old man, and take me to this grave.”
Colby felt compelled to help but how? They were armed, he wasn’t. His mind was still grappling with waking up to a world where he didn’t even know who he was or why or how he’d ended up here. One thing was sure though, these men knew someone called Spider. He watched as the man led Jeb toward the field while the others collected the horses. He wanted to intervene, to help Jeb, but he was outnumbered. He certainly didn’t want to make it any worse for his family.
A scream echoed. His eyes darted to the
