Orphan Maker Page 7

  Delia had spurned reading once again for her handmade flash cards. The girl had her addition and subtraction down pat, something Loomis envied. She had struggled with math for years, and at six years old, Delia was already beginning simple multiplication. Of course, the girl was barely able to read a word, so Loomis figured it must balance out in the end. Sitting beside Loomis, Megan practiced her penmanship. A book of letters lay open before her, and she carefully copied them onto her slate, her tongue sticking out in concentration. Loomis grinned and rubbed the girl’s back. She received a smile and snuggle in return before Megan went back to work.

  Heather and Cara each had one of the city girls for instruction. Heather and Lucky sat at the other end of the table with a stack of books. They had worked down from adult literature to children’s books, and had discovered that Lucky read at the fourth-grade level. She struggled with the words, but her skill was better than Kevin’s. That was more than Loomis had hoped; Lucky was sixteen, and had been in sixth grade at the time of the plague. She hadn’t lost as much as Loomis had feared.

  Cara and Gwen were on the couch doing the same exercise. Curious, Loomis left the table to see how they fared. As she drifted closer, she was amazed to hear Gwen reciting a paragraph from a history book, one that had been written for high school students. Considering how prickly the woman was, Loomis didn’t comment. She continued past them to sit at the breakfast bar with her brother. Gwen broke off a moment, glancing at her, but returned to her reading. Her vocabulary was a little rusty here and there as she stumbled, but all in all she comprehended what she was saying.

  How could someone who couldn’t speak a sentence without a swear word read so well? Gwen was cantankerous, contrary and prone to argument in Loomis’s opinion. But there she sat, smoothly reading an eyewitness account of the Black Hole of Calcutta from the mid-eighteenth century. It boggled the mind. She turned on the stool, looking at the project on which she and her brother were working. He had a large handmade map unfolded across the counter, and a number of notebooks spread across the remaining space. “How’s it going?”

  “Not bad.” He showed her his slate. Paper was a rarity, and they had to work mathematical equations and write out rough drafts with chalk before transferring them to the notebooks. “I’m still having a bit of trouble with the double moons. Since they’re on two different orbits, they’re messing up the tidal pattern.”

  “I hate math.” Loomis pulled the slate toward her.

  Their three older brothers had been avid gamers in their youth. They had given the bug to Loomis when she was eleven, and she had passed it on to Rick after the plague. Unfortunately, neither Cara or Heather were interested in Dungeons & Dragons, so gaming had been set aside in favor of more normal educational pursuits. Pining to be involved in some aspect of the game, she and Rick had spent the last two years building their own world from scratch. It had been illuminating as they researched astronomical and physical science textbooks from the junior high school library in town. The challenge had been to make this fictional place follow the recognized laws of physics.

  “You know, Terry’s almost old enough,” Rick said. “And the other three might find it interesting. Maybe we could actually play a game.”

  “Maybe.” Loomis frowned in concentration at his equation. “I know I’ve got a couple of adventures ready to go if they’ll go for it.”

  “Me, too.” He peered calculatingly over his shoulder at the others.

  Loomis slid the slate back. “Is this correct? I thought we decided the second moon had less mass than this.”

  Rick turned back to their project, and flipped through a notebook with a frown. “I thought so. Here it is.” He read the data and thumped his forehead. “You’re right. I put in the wrong numbers.”

  As much as she wanted to get lost in the creation of a world and its cultures, she sat back. “Fix it later. We’ve got to have a meeting.”

  He reluctantly agreed, though he changed the numerical information on the slate before closing the notebook.

  Loomis turned on her stool and clapped her hands. “Hey, we need to talk. Everybody gather around.”

  As expected, Megan came running to her favorite person, demanding to sit on Loomis’s lap. Delia kept her flash cards with her as she plopped onto the couch beside Cara, shuffling through them with restless hands. Kevin and Terry drifted over to sit on the edge of the hearth, Terry giving last-minute pointers on reading. Lucky seemed relieved at the break and gathered Oscar from the crib Rick had located that morning. She and Heather sat on the loveseat, giving Loomis their undivided attention.

  “I think we need to make another scavenging trip, the sooner the better. I’m betting a lot of the families in this valley are going to need more clothes and supplies now that we have a larger population. We’d best hop on it now before everything’s taken.”

  “I thought by now you’d have the stores picked clean.” Gwen frowned.

  Loomis refrained from making a comparison between their circumstances here and those in the city; she’d learned her lesson the day before. “The stores have been, but not the houses.”

  “Really? That’s diesel,” Lucky said.

  Terry mouthed the word “diesel” in confusion, and Kevin whispered an explanation.

  Assuming she meant the idea was a good one, Loomis forged on. “Anyway, me and Terry are going to head out with the cart right after lunch and into McAdam.”

  “What about Kevin?”

  “He’s staying here. We can take him next time.”

  “I want to go!” Megan piped, closely followed by Delia volunteering the same.

  Rick saved his sister from having to respond. “You two can’t even shoot twenty pound bows, yet. The Hansens have seen bear spoor in the woods. You’re too little to run away fast enough.”

  “Loomis!” Megan tugged at her shirt. “You can protect us from bears, can’t you?”

  “There’s more than bears, missy. There’s a cougar that’s been sighted on the western ridge, and a pack of wolves or wild dogs somewhere near McAdam. You two are safer here.”

  The child pouted and slumped in Loomis’s arms, but didn’t get down.

  “And the same goes for Kevin,” Loomis told Terry. “He doesn’t know the first thing about what to do in the woods. Plus he needs to eat and rest to regain his health.”

  Terry grumbled under his breath, but Loomis’s word was law at the homestead, and he knew it.

  “I’m going with you.”

  Loomis refused to scowl at Gwen. “The same goes for you, miss. We’ll be on the road for about three hours, and may be sleeping outdoors. Won’t be back here until late tomorrow afternoon.” It was all Loomis could do to not wince as she watched the stubborn streak rear its ugly head as it had the day before.

  Gwen lifted her chin, and her eyes narrowed. “I’m going. I know what sizes of clothing to look for, and I have a fresh set of eyes to see with. I can handle any gun you have here and I’m handy with a knife.”

  Handy with a knife? Do I even want to know? Regardless of Loomis’s unwillingness to spend more time in Gwen’s acerbic company, she realized it might be good to have her along. Gwen was of a size between Terry and Loomis. She could fit into tight spots requiring someone a bit bigger than the boy. Loomis debated the wisdom of giving in so soon. Her leadership kept them together, and Gwen was a wild card, threatening to upset the status quo. “If you fall behind, you’re on your own.”

  “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

  Loomis nodded agreement, though her stomach soured. Two days alone with Terry’s attitude and Gwen’s abrasiveness—what gods had she pissed off to warrant such torture?

  Chapter Nine

  Gwen shifted on the seat, grimacing in pain. What the hell gave her the idea to come along on this trip again? She cast an eye at her roommate. Oh, yeah. That was it. Her butt and thighs were still sore from the previous day’s horseback ride. Now she sat on a rock-hard bench in the back of a two-wheeled cart,
thumping and bumping its way down a decrepit two-lane highway. The thing wasn’t even a proper wagon, the faded orange and white paint job testament to its previous life as a trailer at a truck rental company. A wooden contraption had been attached to the trailer, adapting it for the horse now hitched in front. A second horse plodded alongside. Loomis casually held a compound bow with one arrow nocked as she rode Tempest. At her hip was a .45 automatic pistol. Terry stood at the front of the trailer, feet braced on another bench and reins in his hands. Gwen didn’t think he was there to steer so much as yank on the makeshift brake lever sticking up on one side if there was an emergency. He had a shotgun slung across his back and a smaller version of Loomis’s bow lay nearby.

  Bows and arrows, for Christ’s sake. These hicks must have more weapons than the ones she’d seen so far. Didn’t they spend all their time out poaching or hunting squirrels and possums like most hillbillies? What she wouldn’t give for a semiautomatic right now. She would put those stupid bows to shame, that was for shizzle. A fucking bear wouldn’t come back for seconds, no way. She would put so many caps in its furry hide they could use its skin for a strainer. The cart hit another pothole, and Gwen groaned at the shock of pain stabbing up her spine. She staggered to her feet, preferring to stand on her blisters than beat her ass with the bench.

  “You okay?”

  Squinting against the setting sun, Gwen scowled up at Loomis. “Yeah,” she lied. “How much longer?”

  Loomis started to answer, but was cut off.

  “We’re almost there.” Terry pointed ahead at a dusty road sign barely visible behind some overgrown bushes. It read, Welcome to the City of McAdam, population 2067. The number had a line painted through it and a big, red zero sprayed underneath.

  Gwen scoffed. “Two thousand? That ain’t no city.”

  “City enough for these parts,” Loomis said. “Let’s head over to Benson Hill. You remember the way?”

  “Duh.” Terry yanked on the reins, guiding the horses to a street off the main drag.

  Gwen didn’t know why Loomis didn’t smack the brat for his disrespect. He was still angry Kevin hadn’t been allowed to come, and had taken it out on the both of them for the entire three hours they had been on the road. She figured maybe it was a good thing she didn’t have a gun after all. At the rate things were going, she would fill Terry with caps and leave him for the bear.

  They rolled into a residential area, and Gwen left off her mental bitching to look over the houses. Like most places in this valley, the dwellings were a mixture of log cabins and regular homes. A veritable forest of chimneys pointed to the evening sky, the stonework of some beginning to crumble with neglect. The neighborhood was abandoned with gardens and grass long running wild. A picket fence was slowly being pulled down under the weight of decorative ivy. Vehicles rusted in overgrown driveways. Where the hum of people washing dishes, mowing lawns or playing on swing sets would normally be heard, there was now only birdsong, the buzzing of insects, and a gentle breeze through the low-hanging tree branches. Other than the rustic appearance of some of the buildings, the place looked like the suburb Gwen had run away from after her ’rents had died. As they passed slowly along the street, Gwen noticed marks on some of the doors. These had a large X across their center, some in paint or charcoal and others in what looked to be chalk. There was also writing across the top or middle, but she was too far away to see. “What does that say?”

  Loomis saw where Gwen was looking and urged her horse closer to the door. “The X means that someone’s already been here to scavenge that house.” She bent in the saddle to peer at the writing. “Looks like it belongs to the Stewarts.”

  “Belongs to them?” Gwen asked, confused.

  Terry glanced over his shoulder at her. “Yeah. They got here first, so it belongs to them.” He rolled his eyes and returned his attention to the road.

  What? “You mean nobody else will go in there?”

  Loomis frowned at her. “That’s the agreement we made five years ago. We collected everything from the businesses and divvied it up among the homesteads, but the houses are fair game. You put your mark on it, and its yours.”

  “Well, what the hell’s baller blocking them from marking every house in the valley?” Gwen stood, hands on her hips.

  “Huh?” Terry swung around to stare at her.

  Loomis’s eyes narrowed a moment, a flash of irritation lightening their color. Gwen found it attractive, but remained steadfast. As much as she wanted to make the moves, her body couldn’t handle such abuse—whether it be for pleasure or not—and Loomis was still clueless. “Why don’t we go through and mark all the houses left?”

  “One family, one house, per year.”

  Gwen scoffed. “And you actually believe your folks do that? Just ignore the treasure sitting under their noses because they’re only allowed one house a year?”

  Loomis urged her horse closer. She leaned down to glare at Gwen. “Listen, missy, you told me yesterday that I shouldn’t judge you or the way you city kids did things. You have no right to do the same to me and mine. You feel me?”

  Having her words turned back on her, Gwen blinked at Loomis. A slow smile grew on her face, widening as she saw Loomis’s uncertain response. “I feel you. Sorry for being a bitch.”

  Terry watched them a moment longer. When Loomis straightened in her saddle, he turned his back on them. “Hey, Loomis. What about that place?”

  Gwen followed his pointed finger. A stylish two-story log cabin towered majestically above the thigh high weeds in the yard. It was predominantly glass and beams, less functional than the Loomis homestead. The place seemed like something a doctor or lawyer from the city would be inclined to build for vacations. In the driveway was a corroding sports utility vehicle with a yellow sign in the back window that could still be read through the grime: Baby on Board.

  “Let me go check it out.” Loomis guided Tempest off the road and across the ditch.

  Terry pulled the team to a halt and set the brake. Gwen watched Loomis direct the horse around the side of the building until she disappeared from sight.

  “How long have you known Kevin?”

  A little startled at Terry’s attempt at conversation, Gwen glanced at him. “I don’t know. About three years, I think. Time runs together too much.”

  Terry nodded, looking her over. “You were the leader’s girl, right? That’s what Kevin said.”

  She made a face, not wanting to be reminded of Weasel. Turning away, she stared at the cabin. “I was. But not anymore.”

  “Kevin said he got really sick last winter, and you fed him soup and took care of him when nobody else would.”

  Gwen looked over her shoulder at him. “Yeah. He’s a Gato, and we take care of our own.” She wondered what he was getting at. “What of it?”

  “Nothing.” Terry shrugged, studying the reins in his hand. “I’m just glad you did. Otherwise he might have died, and then I’d never have met him.”

  Was this a thank you coming from this little asshole? Gwen decided it had to be. She saw the flush of his skin even in the nearing twilight. “I’m glad I did too,” she finally said.

  Approaching hooves broke the tableau, and she saw Loomis nearing. “Good eyes, Terry. Looks like this is the place. There’s a large backyard with a tool shed out there, too, so no telling what kind of gold mine we’ve got here. Nobody’s claimed it, so it’s Loomis property now.”

  “Cool! Should I pull up behind the car?”

  “Yeah. Then come around to the garage. We can bed the horses down there once we break in.”

  The cart jolted forward, and Gwen grabbed at the side to keep from falling.

  Soon she stood outside the detached garage, watching Loomis hoist Terry up to a window ledge. A chunk of buckskin had been laid over the broken window ledge to protect him from being cut, and he squirmed into the darkness with ease. Moments later the doorknob squealed in protest as he opened the door. Loomis lit the lantern she had brought wi
th them and stepped inside. Gwen followed with a crowbar on the off chance they would need it, but Loomis was able to unlock the rolling garage door with little fanfare. The three of them fought with the dusty mechanism, forcing it up and up as it wailed in protest. As soon as it was high enough to get the horses inside, Loomis called them to a halt. Gwen slumped against a set of shelves, sweating and shaky. With decent rest and food, she’d thought she would be stronger. But her body rebelled against the long-term neglect it had suffered. The simple task of opening a door was no longer so easy. A warm hand lay on her shoulder, and she looked up into Loomis’s concerned face.

  “Are you okay? Do you need to sit down?”

  “No. I’m good. Just give me a minute to catch my breath.”

  Loomis examined her closely before nodding. “Okay. I’m going to help Terry get the horses. There was a pack of wild dogs on this end of the valley last winter, and I don’t want to leave the animals outside for the night.”

  Gwen strained for a blasé appearance and waved her off. As soon as Loomis was away, she sagged though remained standing. She just needed to rest a minute, that was all.

  With the horses inside, Loomis and Terry managed to close the garage door without Gwen’s assistance. Good thing, she thought, holding the lantern so they could see what they were doing. She doubted she’d be able to do much more without a solid meal and a nap. The horses carried their own feed, and it took some time to get them set for the night. Loomis repaired the broken window with a hammer, using some plywood that Terry had found. They took more plywood and nails with them as they exited the side door, closing it behind them. The back deck was strong, though it showed the beginnings of water damage. They trotted up the steps and to the back door as the last of the sun fell below the western mountain range.

  Gwen heard barking in the distance and peered into the oncoming gloom. “Are we going to be safe in there with all those windows?”

  Loomis nodded, her attention on the door. “Places like these have mud rooms or laundry rooms. Won’t be many windows in them. We can bed down there for tonight.” Her hands traced the convenient glass above the handle. “Step back.” Using the crowbar, she broke the glass in the door, and reached through to turn the lock. The barking sounded closer. “Come on. Let’s get this blocked before they get here. If they’re still hanging around in the morning, a couple of rounds will scare them away.” She held the door open and ushered Terry and Gwen into the dark kitchen.