Steve ended the call quickly, almost before what he’d said had registered with Katie. She paused for a second then dashed into the house. A small pack with some clean clothes was ready to go by the garage door. Grabbing one of John’s large packs, Katie filled it with every rifle magazine that was in the safe. A first aid kit went in on top of the magazines and she topped it off with another pistol and several loaded pistol magazines.
Setting this aside she sat down at John’s desk and pulled a spiral notepad and pen out of the center drawer. Thinking for a moment, she started writing.
Waited six days. Things were getting bad in the area and I had to leave. I’m going to the place in the mountains where we got drunk and I got mad at you when I thought you were looking at that girl’s ass. You have to remember that, and you have to come find me. I’ll stay there as long as I can. If I have to move again I’ll find a way to leave word for you. Please come find me. I love you! Me
Katie always signed any card or note she wrote to John as Me. She didn’t know how it started or why, it just did. Now, that unique quirk would guarantee he would know it was from her. In the modern, digital age she doubted he’d recognize her handwriting any more than she would his. Neither of them actually wrote very often. Tearing the paper off the pad she ran to the large mirror in the entryway and taped it to the middle of the glass.
Rushing, she carried the pack of magazines out to the truck, putting it alongside her bag of clothes in the back seat. Back in the house she grabbed a case of ammunition out of the bottom of the safe and took that to the truck, coming back inside for the cooler full of ice. When this was loaded she grabbed an axe from the garage, tossing it in the bed of the truck along with her looted cans of food.
Seeing the food reminded her to run back inside and get a can opener, a small metal cooking pot and a few basic utensils. When all of this was stowed in the truck she paused to look over her supplies for a moment. Satisfied she was as ready as she would ever be, Katie climbed up behind the wheel and pushed the button to raise the garage door.
The door didn’t move. With a curse she remembered the power was out. Jumping back down she looked up at the door opener, but there wasn’t enough light near the ceiling for her to tell how to release the mechanism and manually open the door. Realizing she needed a flashlight, Katie ran back into the house and yanked open the closet doors in John’s office. Snatching a small LED flashlight off a shelf, she also scooped up a pack of spare batteries and ran back to the truck.
Katie didn’t know how to release the door, but she did know it could be released. She’d seen John do it once when the power went out during a violent thunderstorm. Clicking the flashlight on she played the bright beam across the motor, seeing nothing that looked promising. Examining the track she spied a short rope with a red handle on the end hanging down from what looked like a locking lever. That had to be it.
Climbing up on top of the rear tire, she swung a leg onto the bed cover of the truck to gain enough height to reach the red handle. Pulling, she felt it move a couple of inches, a loud click coming from the lever to which the rope was attached. Jumping down she squeezed between the truck’s rear bumper and the door, bending her knees to get low enough to reach the grab handle that was at ground level.
The door moved freely, rolling open in its track as Katie straightened up with her hand wrapped around the handle. She placed her hands on the bottom edge of the door and lifted with a surge, the door rolling the rest of the way and coming to a stop fully open.
Her attention had been on the door and she was surprised when she looked down the driveway and saw two young men standing in the road staring back at her. Both were carrying rifles and