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The winter seemed to go on forever. We stayed inside most of the time. Some of the men continued to explore the intact buildings in town. Danny found a set of tires and wheels that would fit the van, and they were an important addition to our travel plans.
On a cold February day, most of the men went to salvage a large truck stop north of town. Tracy went down to the basement. She planned to do some laundry.
The Reverend Barker still raged against the godless ones who openly displayed their immorality, but no one paid any attention. On the previous day’s exploration, he found a bottle of gin in a partially burned house.
He had been sampling it all morning and followed Tracy down to the laundry room.
She was startled to see him standing behind her, leering. “What in the hell do you want?” She demanded.
He blinked, and replied, “Daughter of Jezebel, you’re nothing but a whore for Danny. You should favor anyone who desires your body, and I need it now.”
Tracy was scared. He outweighed her by a 150 pounds, and there was no one else in the basement.
She backed away. And said, “You don’t want this. Danny will have your ass.”
The Reverend responded by taking out a knife, and saying, “You either cooperate or I’ll slit your throat and leave you in a snow-bank. Now get undressed or face the consequences.”
Backed into a corner, Tracy unbuttoned her shirt, and said, “OK. You don’t have to hurt me. I won’t tell anybody.”
She slipped off her shirt and bra and stepped toward him. She rubbed his crotch and said, “Let’s move over to the table. Why don’t we get out of our clothes so we can enjoy this?”
Baker was surprised by her reaction, but his ego and arousal overcame what little caution he had left. He put the knife down and started pulling off his pants.
As soon as Tracy saw his eyes leave her, she grabbed a bleach bottle off the shelf, pulled the lid off and splashed some into the Reverend’s face. She turned and ran upstairs to the garage with a screaming Reverend starting to follow her.
Tracy ran to Danny’s van, yanked open the passenger door, and pulled the Beretta out of the glove box. She had just chambered a round as he approached, knife in hand.
Without a second thought, she emptied the gun.
The next morning, it was the Reverend who was buried in a snow-bank.
Tracy changed that day. She carried any time she left the apartment. And, she always kept aware of her surroundings. The incident brought the three of us even closer, and I started thinking about having a more permanent relationship.
Danny worked a lot on the van and trailer. He mounted two spare tires and wheels on the van roof and cut a hatch that would permit someone to stand on the jump seat and shoot. The tires would provide a shooting rest and some protection against projectiles. He also did the same thing on the trailer roof and painted the white trailer the same camo pattern as the van.
The trailer was loaded with 200 gallons of fuel, food, tools, and trade goods. The trade goods included: several guns, a large quantity of ammunition, a box of medical supplies, some small tools, and a big box of seed packets that Hector insisted they take.
Danny had equipped the van with a winch, a two-burner propane stove, weapons, camping gear, a fold out twin bed, a five gallon propane bottle, fuel transfer pumps, a 30 gallon fuel tank, first aid and other supplies.
With the Reverend’s demise, the community came together, and Hector was elected unopposed.
