Death Comes Calling (Ranger Book 3) Read online

  “That’s pretty impressive,” Randy said. “And it gave me an idea. An idea I’d like to run past you that might cost you a little of your time and set you back a bit. But in the long run I think it’ll help you get your vehicles moving again faster, and will help out the other neighborhoods as well.”

  The old man paused.

  He looked at Brandy and said, “Well, this guy’s either brilliant or he’s just plain nuts. Which one do you think it is, pretty lady?”

  “Why don’t you listen to what he has to say and decide for yourself?”

  He turned back to Randy and said, “Well, I have to admit your idea does intrigue me a bit.”

  Randy pitched his plan.

  Chapter 20

  “Your block has done something nobody else in Lubbock even thought of,” Randy began. “You moved all of your block’s vehicles into a centralized location, where you could work on them en mass. And in doing so, you created room in the street for your cut trees and expanded your crop-growing space tremendously.

  “All of the other neighborhoods have left most of their trees intact. It provides shade which might be nice in the summertime. But it sure does cut down on the amount of space they’ll need to grow food.

  “I know that pushing all the cars down here to one centralized location took some time and effort. But by doing so you have made it easier and more convenient to work on all the vehicles at the same time.”

  “Okay, Ranger. I’m with you so far. So what’s your plan?”

  “My plan is to go to the other block managers and to tell them what you’ve done. Encourage all the other blocks to do the same thing. To push their abandoned cars over here or to another abandoned parking lot close to them. Somewhere where the parts removal process can be done much more efficiently.”

  “Parts removal process?”

  “Picture this, Bud. Right now you’ve identified one particular part you’re looking for. A generator for a Ford pickup of a particular year. You’ll likely spend weeks walking all over the city, miles in every direction, looking for that one particular working part.

  “Imagine how easy it would be if you didn’t have to walk up and down each street, examining each truck.”

  “I don’t follow you.”

  “You’ve brought all your cars to this parking lot on 34th Street. Since 34th is a through street zoned for business, it’s pretty much lined with parking lots.

  “Think how much easier it would be for you if you merely walked up and down 34th, examining piles of good parts that other mechanics had pulled out of their cars? Each one would be certified as serviceable and marked with what type of vehicle it came off of. You could find your working generator and offer to swap one of your other parts for it. A part, say for example, that the mechanic with the generator needed for one of his own cars.”

  “So… you want me to stop what I’m doing and examine the rest of our vehicles for working parts?”

  “Exactly. And then take them off, tag them as to what make and model car they came from, then line them up nice and neat for other neighborhood mechanics to look through.

  “Meanwhile, I’ll pitch the idea to other mechanics on other blocks to bring their own cars up to one of these parking lots and to do the same thing.

  “Once their own blocks are free of cars, they can clear cut their trees like you guys did, pile them into the street like you guys did, and expand their growing space for the spring planting…”

  “Just like us guys did.”

  “Exactly. How many cars did you gather from your two blocks?”

  “Forty four, all together.”

  “And how many good electrical parts do you think you can get from them?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe a dozen or so.”

  “So why not do this? Take those dozen parts off and tag them, then line them up here on the sidewalk. If anybody else comes along and needs one of them, let him have it. You’ll be helping him out and getting rid of something you don’t need anyway. And maybe by this time next week or the week after, he’ll have his own mess of cars in a parking lot down the street. He’ll have his own good parts removed, tagged and on the sidewalk. You can go down and look at them.

  “Who knows? You might get lucky and find a generator for the pickup truck you need to get going again.”

  Bud stared off into space, pondering the idea.

  “Well,” Brandy called out to him. “What do you think? Is he brilliant or crazy?”

  “Well, little lady… the jury’s still out on that one. I guess it depends on whether he can talk the other block leaders into incorporating such a plan. But I will admit, it sounds like it just might work.”

  Randy said goodbye to his new friend and promised to check back with him in a week or two.

  On their way back to Containers and Tubs Inc. Randy drew Trigger alongside the slow-moving wagon.

  “You never said what you think,” Randy asked Brandy. “Am I brilliant or crazy?”

  “You’re both, if you ask me. But most people thought Einstein was crazy. Same with Edison and Von Braun. If people aren’t enlightened enough to know a good idea when they see one, it’s on them, not you.

  “I think if you can get all the residential streets to move their cars to the nearest commercial street parking lots it’ll be win-win for everybody.

  “At the very least it’ll give them a place to put their trees, and probably double their amount of grow space.

  “And if you can get them to go one step further and get their good vehicle parts removed, that’s even better.

  “I think if your plan works there will be dozens, if not hundreds of cars moving around Lubbock a year from now. Ambulances can start running again, even if they’re just SUVs with the word ‘Ambulance’ spray painted on their doors. You guys can get off your horses and start responding to emergencies again.

  “I think you’re onto something, Randy.

  “I think you’re a little bit crazy, yes.

  “But I also think your mama put a brain in that head of yours after all.”

  But Brandy wasn’t the one to convince of his plan. For it to work, it would have to be a city wide effort. And that would require help from the city council.

  Randy would discuss it with Lieutenant Davis at the next muster. He’d get the lieutenant’s take on it, and if the lieutenant thought it was a good idea, he’d ask him to move it up the chain of command to the mayor’s office.

  Randy wasn’t one to toot his own horn and he hated situations where someone praised him for something he’d done. He was decidedly low-key and shy. He disliked being in the limelight.

  But in this case, he thought he was onto something. If he had to pitch his case to the mayor and city council to make it happen he was willing to do so.

  He was sworn, after all, to serve and protect the citizens of Lubbock and of Texas. And if this simple idea could help normalize everything, even in a tiny way, he’d suffer through the accolades.

  Chapter 21

  The rest of Randy’s shift went relatively smoothly. They collected two additional loads of tubs and delivered them to six other blocks along 29th Street.

  In addition to providing the standard instructions for placing the rainwater tubs next to the houses and channeling water into them, they pitched Randy’s idea.

  Brandy even had an idea of her own.

  “If your block lacks the manpower to push your abandoned cars four blocks to the nearest commercial parking lot, I can help.

  “There are hundreds of able-bodied men on the Texas Tech campus. Their classes have been postponed indefinitely. They’ve chosen not to go home, because they live too far away to walk. Or they’re from Lubbock. In either case they’re bored silly because they have nothing to occupy their time.

  “I’m certain we can drum up a dozen volunteers. I can have them report to you, as the block leader. I’ll tell them they’ll be asked to push cars for several blocks to a commercial parking lot. Then to use chainsaws and
axes to cut down all the trees on your block and to stack the wood in the empty street.”

  “But ma’am. We cannot pay these men. The dollar is worthless.”

  “They won’t ask for money, sir. They’ll do it for free, just to have something to do.”

  “And you’re sure you can talk them into it?”

  Randy interjected.

  “Look at her, sir. Look at her helpers on the wagon. They are three of the prettiest girls on campus. They can talk Tech guys into anything.”

  He had a point.

  When the wagon returned to the Tech campus after the third load, the team called it a day.

  Randy said his goodbyes, got his usual hugs, and a bonus.

  Brandy kissed him on the cheek.

  “Well thank you. But what was that for?”

  “You went above and beyond today, Randy. The other Rangers are great, don’t get me wrong. But they just do what they’re directed to do. They escort us wherever we want to go and keep us safe.

  “You, on the other hand, go the extra mile. It’s clear to see that you’re genuinely concerned for the people of Lubbock and genuinely want to help them.”

  “Aw, shucks. These are my people. I’m from here. They’re people I grew up with. If there’s some way I can help them, of course I’m going to do it.”

  Brandy suddenly started laughing.

  “Did you just say ‘aw, shucks’?”

  “Yeah. I guess I did.”

  “Okay, Dudley Doo-Right. I know you’re from Lubbock. So am I, remember? I’m just saying that most locals are staying close to home, taking care of their own. And there’s nothing wrong with that. These are uncertain times and they’re scared. And there’s a lot of violence out there.

  “No one would blame you if you behaved the same way. No one would blame you if you came along with us every few days, did your job, then went home and boarded yourself up in your home until you had to get out again.

  “But you’re not doing that. You’re putting yourself out there. You’re sticking your neck out. You’re offering to help. I say bravo to you, sir. And as one Lubbockite to another, I just want to thank you.”

  “I honestly don’t know what to say.”

  “Then say thank you, you big dummy.”

  “Thank you, you big dummy.”

  They both smiled and shared a warm embrace.

  But it wasn’t the start of a new romance. For as enamored as Brandy might have been with him, she had a boyfriend. Randy had met him, and they’d become fast friends.

  And Randy was still hoping to find the girl he met just before the power went out.

  This day was ending for Brandy, but Ranger Randy had one more task to perform. One more place to go.

  He mounted up, tipped his hat and galloped off across the grassy campus toward the administrative building.

  Chapter 22

  Steve Peters had always been a loner. He didn’t have much use for the rest of humanity. He even saw members of his own family not as loved ones, but as tools to further his own goals.

  He wasn’t like most preppers, who felt the need to get ready for some great catastrophe, all the while hoping it never happened.

  No, Steve was actually looking forward to the day society collapsed in the face of a horrible event.

  So he could finally be shed of all those around him dragging him down and holding him back.

  So he could finally be alone.

  He thought that spending the rest of his years in his bunker built for one would be a slice of heaven. No one around to offer unwanted advice. No one to criticize him or ridicule him. He thought he’d be able to take great joy in knowing he was right all along. That there was indeed a great catastrophe coming. That he wasn’t the crazy creep everyone thought him to be.

  That he, in his infinite foresight and wisdom, was smarter than all of them.

  And he did indeed take joy in knowing that.

  The problem was he had nobody to gloat to, and that took some of the joy out of it.

  Oh, they were still out there: his relatives and former friends and co-workers. They were out there feeling foolish and wishing they’d believed him, and being jealous of him and wishing they had tried to join him.

  Steve was certain of that.

  But it would have been infinitely more fun for Steve to see the looks on their faces as they came to him, groveling and admitting they were wrong and begging him for help.

  He wouldn’t have helped them… none of them. But he’d have taken great joy in slamming the door in their faces.

  That was one of the problems in the way he set up his sanctuary. If any of them had come calling, they’d have seen the bogus eviction notice he’d posted in his front window. They’d have peered into that same window and would have seen, by all appearances, just a vacant house.

  And they’d have left dejectedly, assuming that Steve had relocated to an abandoned missile silo or a hardened bunker somewhere.

  He’d take a limited amount of joy in seeing that downtrodden face through the hidden camera on his front porch. But he’d never have the chance to laugh at them. To say “I told you so.”

  To gloat and then coldly send them away.

  That was one unintended consequence of having isolated himself.

  Another was that he was slowly going mad.

  If he’d done the research he’d have known it was inevitable.

  For it almost always happened to those who purposely withdrew themselves from others.

  It happened to Howard Hughes and to Adolph Hitler.

  And it would happen to him as well.

  Most would say it already had.

  For sane men don’t commit murder. At least in the eyes of most.

  It followed the same pattern. First came the feeling of superiority, then the self-imposed isolation.

  Then the paranoia, and finally the lunacy.

  Steve never saw any of that coming, despite his personal belief he was smarter and therefore better than everyone else.

  But it was coming nonetheless.

  He was pacing back and forth in the basement of his secret fortress, mumbling to himself and cursing his situation.

  It was such a perfect plan in his mind, his mission to kill Major Shultz and the boy. In his mind, everything was going to go as clockwork. He’d return to his hideaway having accomplished his mission. Two lifeless bodies would be left behind. No one would be left alive who knew of his existence.

  Now he was questioning his own skills. Now he was wondering whether he was as smart as he always thought he was.

  Now he was questioning whether he’d made other mistakes.

  And it was, quite literally, driving him mad.

  In one corner of his basement was a tiny security desk.

  It didn’t contain much. Just the ham radio he’d had upstairs and a bank of five surveillance monitors. The radio was the same one he’d allowed John Shultz to use. He’d brought it back downstairs just that morning.

  The monitors and the cameras which fed images to them were ones he’d protected in his Faraday cage. He’d installed the cameras in the dead of night, and now they beamed images of the outside world twenty four seven.

  Two on the front of his house, one facing east and the other west.

  Two on the back of his house, facing in the same directions.

  And one on his front porch, to capture the panicked faces of former friends and relatives who’d undoubtedly come to him for help.

  But now he was worried that others would come too.

  Others bent on punishing him for what he’d done.

  As he paced back and forth he kept an eye on those monitors, certain that at any time he’d see a hoard of lawmen coming.

  They’d appear from nowhere on one of the monitors.

  Or maybe several monitors. Maybe they’d rush in from all directions.

  In Steve’s mind, he was always way more important than he really was.

  He was smarter, more talented,
more worthy of attention.

  So it stood to reason that when they came for him, they’d use every single resource they had.

  In Steve’s twisted mind, they wouldn’t send a lone detective to arrest him and haul him downtown to stand trial for John Shultz’s murder.

  They’d send the whole police force.

  As he paced back and forth, eyes glued to those monitors and expecting to see a mass of heavily armed men approaching his house at any moment, his mind kept going back to the one who’d caused this mess to begin with.

  That damned little boy.

  Chapter 23

  Randy stood in front of the message board, trying to find the message he’d left for Sarah several weeks before.

  It wasn’t easy.

  The boards had been erected by architectural students, desperate for something to help kill the free time they suddenly had on their hands.

  They were nothing fancy, just sheets of plywood propped up on their sides and held up with a wooden framework.

  The message boards weren’t used much at first, but as students and others realized it was an effective way to communicate they’d become more popular. They were soon covered with messages.

  When Randy posted his own message to Sarah there were just a few dozen others, all of uniform size, written on white index cards. Now the sheet was littered with hundreds of messages in varying sizes and colors, some of the posters apparently wanting to make their own messages stand out against the others.

  To make things worse, when Randy first visited the site there were only two sheets of plywood designated for the letter “S.”

  Now there were five. And that wouldn’t be so bad in itself, except some well-intended person tried to relieve some of the congestion on the original boards by moving some of the messages to the new ones.

  Now Randy was trying to find his original post in a sea of messages, and trying to do so before the sun went down and made his task impossible.