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SNOQUALMIE, WASHINGTON:
Harold stares up at the man with the shotgun, both looking gigantic. He’s never been so scared in his life.
The man studies the intruder. The little fella looks like he’ll piss his pants if I say boo. “Well now. If you lay that pistol off to the side real gentle like, I’ll move this scatter gun off your chest.”
Harold extends his arm and lets the pistol slip from his hand. “I, ah. I don’t want any trouble, Mr.”
“Neither do I, but I’m tired of people stealing from my motel.”
“Oh, no, no, no! I wasn’t trying to steal anything. We’re just looking for someplace warm to spend the night. Honest, Mr. I mean, this is a motel.”
The man stares at Harold for a moment, then grins. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. Might as well use it.” The man switches the shotgun to his left hand and brings it up, pointing over his shoulder. He reaches down with his right hand. “The name’s Jerry Monroe.”
Harold reaches up and Monroe hauls him onto his feet. “I’m Harold Woolly. My wife and kids are out in the car.”
“I noticed. No sense in letting them worry about what happened to you.” Monroe indicates the corridor.
Harold looks down at his pistol. “I shouldn’t leave that laying there.”
“Sure. Do you even know how to use it?”
Harold thinks about the boy he shot and feels a deep sense of remorse. “Yeah, I’m afraid so.”
Monroe notices the sadness in Harold’s eyes. He knows people are having serious problems, now that the old ways have changed. He doesn’t ask Harold for an explanation as he watches him pick up the pistol and shove it under his belt.
Harold turns and leads Monroe down the corridor and out the front door. He sees the fear on Cally’s face when she sees the big man with the shotgun. “Everything’s okay,” he hollers as they approach the car. His wife and kids don’t get out when he waves to them. “It’s all right, everyone. Come out and say hello to our host, Mr. Monroe. This is his motel, and he says we can stay here tonight.”
Mark climbs out first and walks up to Monroe, eyeing the shotgun. “Is that a Remington twelve gauge?”
“That’s right. You seem to know your guns.”
“I collect them. I have twenty-eight handguns and rifles.”
Monroe looks at Harold for confirmation. “Twenty-eight?”
“Plastic replicas,” Harold tells him. “Except for this one.” He touches the one in his belt. “He shouldn’t have had it in the first place, but I guess it saved our lives once already. This is my son, Mark.”
Harold turns when he hears the car doors opening and watches the girls haltingly climb out of the car. “This is my daughter, Pamela, and my wife, Cally.”
“Hello, Mr. Monroe,” Cally says while eyeing the shotgun.
“Nice to meet you. You’ll have to pardon the shotgun, ma’am, but as you can see, I’ve had some problems here.”
“We’re all pretty tired, Mr. Monroe,” says Harold. “If you don’t mind, we’d like to move into one of your rooms and try to relax. It’s been a terrible day.”
Monroe studies his new guests. “You look hungry. Have you eaten anything today?”
“Not since breakfast,” Pamela answers.
“And I’m starved,” Mark adds.
“We have some canned food in the car,” Harold tells him. “I’m sure we have a can opener someplace.”
Monroe looks at each of them. His general feeling is they are probably decent folks thrown into a world gone mad. “You’re welcome to sit in the trailer and use the stove. It beats eating it cold.”
The Woollys trade looks. After what happened earlier, it seems strange for someone to be hospitable. Harold can tell his family would appreciate a hot meal and looks at Monroe. “That’s very kind of you. We accept.”
Monroe smiles. “Go ahead and put your things in a room or two and come on over when you’re ready.” Monroe suddenly chuckles. “I guess there’s no need to fill out a registration card.”
Harold smiles at the irony. “Thanks again.”
Harold insists they share one room with two beds, much to the disgust of his children, who argue they can’t possibly sleep together. He grabs enough canned food for Monroe to join them, and the group walks to the trailer. Monroe hollers the door is open before Harold knocks, and his family follows him in.
As he steps through the doorway, Harold looks around. To the right is a small hallway with doors on both sides and steps leading up to a large bed. To the left is a dining and kitchen area, and at the far end is a small living room, with a sofa, coffee table, and a swivel chair. An entertainment center with television, DVD player, and stereo is mounted on the wall across from the sofa.
Monroe is sitting in the swivel chair, with a drink in one hand and a remote control in the other. “If you’d like a drink, the liquor’s above the sink. Make yourselves at home.”
“Thank you, Mr. Monroe, but we don’t drink,” Cally responds.
“I’ll have one,” Harold tells her, receiving a shocked expression from Cally.
Harold shrugs. “After the day I’ve had, I could use one.”
Cally starts to argue, but Monroe interrupts.
“It’s been one hell of a week, hasn’t it?”
Cally stares at Harold for a moment before she turns to make him a drink. Harold is changing, she realizes, and she isn’t sure if she likes it. She fixes his drink, glaring at him as she sets it on the kitchen table.
“Come and sit down for a spell, and I’ll fill you in on the news I just saw on TV.”
“I’ll join you in a minute,” says Cally. “I want to get dinner started. We brought enough for you, too, Mr. Monroe.”
“Thank you. And call me Jerry.”
The rest of the family enters the living room. Harold sitting on the sofa, and his children on the floor, staring at the snowy picture on the television of a news announcer sitting behind a desk.
“The reception’s not that great, but it’s the only station I can get.” Monroe looks at Harold. “Things aren’t getting any better. The military’s trying to get control of things, but it looks like it’ll be a waste of time. People are desperate and doing desperate things, even shooting people who are just trying to help them. I don’t know what started this mess, but I don’t think it’s going to end soon.”
“What are we supposed to do?” Cally asks.
Monroe laughs. “That’s a good question. I think I’ll head for some part of the country that’s more open. Someplace warm, like Arizona or New Mexico. Of course, everybody else is probably thinking the same thing. Might be hard to find enough fuel to get there, though.” Monroe studies Harold for a moment. “What about you?”
“I’m not sure. We’re out of gas, so I guess we’ll have to stay here for a while.”
Monroe shakes his head no. “There’s no food left, and it gets cold up here at night. When the power goes out, which it will, you won’t make it.”
“We should head to Idaho,” Mark tells them. “We can stay with the Army of Survival. I’m sure they have food. The brochure says they’ve planned for something like this.”
Harold sees Monroe looking at him for an explanation. “It’s some kind of survivalist group. Like a private army, I guess. I don’t know much about it.”
Mark stands and searches through his pockets to find the brochure for the AOS and hands it to Monroe. Cally returns to the kitchen while Monroe reads the pamphlet.
“Hmm, I’m retired Air Force. Captain, to be exact. I’ve never heard of this outfit. Sounds like they have their act together, though.” He looks at Mark. “Where did you get this, son?”
“My best friend’s brother sent it to me. He was headed there after he got out of the Marines.”
“It says their mailing address is Osborn, Idaho,” Monroe adds and reaches under the coffee table for a road atlas. He studies the map of Idaho and Washington for a few moments. “About three-hundred miles, give or take. I should be able to make it on what fuel I have left. That’s why it’s only a single cab truck. I needed the room for the big silver tank in the back. It holds two-hundred gallons. I always keep it full, because it cost so much to fill up if I ever let it go empty.”
“Are you going to the AOS?” Mark asks.
“I might.”
“Can I go with you? I know John Everex, and I know he’ll let us stay there. Please, Mr. Monroe. I even know the way, sort of.”
“That’s enough, Mark!” Harold interrupts. “I don’t think Mr. Monroe wants a boy tagging along. We’re a family. We’ll stick together.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” says Monroe. “Actually, I was thinking all of you might like to go with me. There’s enough room for all of us in this trailer, if one of the kids doesn’t mind sleeping on an air mattress.”
Cally returns. “I don’t like this idea at all! We have no way of telling what those people are going to be like. You’ve never been in the military, Harold. From what I know, military people are trained killers! No. I absolutely refuse to go to this army!” she stomps back into the kitchen.
Monroe looks at Harold. “It’s up to you, but just consider the alternatives. It’s not going to be pleasant out there on the road. And you’ll never make it staying here. You should think strongly about it.”
Pamela looks across the coffee table at Monroe. “I think we should go with you.”
“You stay out of this, Pamela!” Cally hollers from the kitchen. “We’re not going, and that’s final!” She walks into the living room and sits on the sofa, but keeps her distance from Harold.
Pamela looks up at her father. “Don’t Mark and I have a say in this, Dad? It’s our lives, too.”
Harold thinks about it for a moment. “You’re right.” He looks at Monroe. “Under the circumstances, I accept your offer, Jerry. Thanks.”
Cally’s face flushes with rage. She leaps up and storms into the kitchen, sitting at the table with her back to the living room. Now I definitely don’t like the way Harold is changing. Well, if he thinks he can start telling me what to do, he’s in for a rude awakening. I’m not going to any army camp!
Harold watches Cally leave and realizes he doesn’t really care about her being upset. He’s made his decision, and he’s going to stick with it. He’s suddenly overwhelmed with a sense of pride, and smiles. He’s never felt so in control before, and he likes it. He finally feels like a real man. A feeling he’s never felt in his whole, miserable life. His smile grows wider the more he thinks about it. I, Harold Woolly, am finally in control of my own destiny. He continues smiling as he looks at Monroe. “When do we leave?”
“Tomorrow morning is as good a time as any.”
“Yes!” Mark yells.
Pamela looks at her father and smiles. She suddenly feels respect for him. A feeling she thought she would never have.
Harold sees the look in his daughter’s eyes and his heart soars even higher. He’ll have to deal with Cally next, but he has no doubt he can handle her. He knows now he will never let her dominate him again.