Last Chance To Make Rent

Clark Palmer about 12,000 words
Cjp1282@yahoo.com
Last Chance to Make Rent
by Clark Palmer
Ralph was on his feet and at the stockroom door just
seconds after the metal-on-metal banging reached his ears.
It was the all-too-familiar sound of someone or more than
one person trying to break into his store. He cocked his
Remington shotgun and slung a bandolier over his body.
“Be careful,” Ralph Sr. said soberly as he rolled up
behind him in his power chair, sawed-off shotgun in his lap.
Bang!
Ralph spoke calmly yet sternly, “If I yell
lockdown...don’t hesitate.” Lockdown was code for locking
the stockroom when Ralph or one of the other adults was in
the store.
Bang! Bang! Ralph glanced at the back of the stockroom
at his sleeping wife and two children. He took a deep

Palmer / Last Chance / 2
breath and slowly let it out, but the queasy feeling in his
stomach only got worse.
It could have easily been kids or run-of-the-mill
vagrants doing a little vandalism or trying to break in and
steal a few things. It could also be God’s Children, who
were getting increasingly strategic and dangerous.
Assuming you were safe was the number one cause of death in
New Ritchie. He had no time for assumptions that day: his
family wouldn’t make rent tomorrow if he got killed.
Ralph nodded at his father, who quickly pulled the
door open, shielding himself behind it. Ralph looked left
and right, his shotgun following his gaze.
He strode into the back of his family’s flea market,
which had been a chain pharmacy/convenience store before
the Virus Wars. He lowered himself into a crouch and
hustled down the aisle in front of him, looking for
intruders through the holes behind the empty shelves. It
didn’t look or sound like anyone had actually broken into
his store but he’d learned to trust his instincts a long
time ago.
“Dad, get Nang up and cover me,” Ralph said, hoping he
kept his voice just low enough so the two or more people
outside wouldn’t hear him.

“Already did. We’re ready,” Ralph Sr. said. Ralph
heard the door creak open and someone step out into the
store, followed by the low whirring of the electric motor
on his father’s chair. Ralph Jr. saw the top of his
adopted brother’s head a couple aisles over. His father
stopped a few feet in front of the door to the stockroom.
Ralph Jr. peered around the end of the aisle at the
store entrance. Two teenagers in tattered clothing were
banging on the door with metal sticks. Ralph Jr. looked
closer and saw that one of the sticks was an aluminum
baseball bat. The blazing sun tattoos with the eye in the
middle on their foreheads gave them away as God’s Children.
Years ago Ralph had welded metal pipes to the outside
of the door to help prevent people from breaking the
double-pane glass. The teenagers’ attempts to get in were
obviously pointless. But that wasn’t what they were trying
to do.
“Be ready,” Ralph Jr. called over his shoulder.
“Somethin’ else is goin’ on.” He heard his dad roll down
the aisle behind him and Nang walk to the end of his aisle.
The teens banged on the door simultaneously. For all
of their talk about rebuilding the world according to their
philosophies, God’s Children were basically a ragtag group
of religious nuts. Most of them. But there was definitely

a strategy behind their actions. Not knowing what it was
made him very uncomfortable.
When Ralph saw the door hinges rattle around violently
he quickly stood and strode to the door, aiming his
Remington at one of the teenagers. The other one was about
to hit the wall to the left of the door, with something
that looked like it used to be part of a car, when he saw
Ralph approaching. Ralph returned the young man’s nervous
stare with a steely-eyed, unblinking gaze. The teen
grabbed his friend and quickly pulled him away from the
door. They both started backing up slowly.
Ralph couldn’t shoot through the door. Besides, a
shotgun blast would crack the glass, making it easier for
people to actually break in next time. That would also
create something for Ralph to fix, and he didn’t have extra
panes of glass just lying around.
He pointed his shotgun at the ceiling without looking,
fired, and cocked the gun again. Nang charged to Ralph
Jr.’s side, aiming his Glock at the door. His father
stayed right where he was to lock down the stockroom if
necessary.
One of the teenagers immediately turned and ran. The
other stared at Ralph Jr. as he backed away, his face like
a stone. He gave Ralph an evil smile then ran away. Ralph

stared after him, his eyes narrowing. Then he looked up at
the hole in the ceiling and dusted off the top of his head
and both shoulders.
He looked at Nang. “Be ready for anything,” he
ordered.
Nang nodded slowly, his gun aimed at the floor. Ralph
stepped forward to the door and looked through the glass
onto the sidewalk and the eerily quiet street beyond.
He saw an overturned trashcan that looked like it had
vomited on the sidewalk. A light breeze blew empty cans,
bottles, used syringes, bullet casings and other garbage
down the sidewalk or onto the road. A few blocks away he
saw scavengers sifting through trash and other items lying
on the street and sidewalks. Some crazies wandered
aimlessly on the other side of the street. Directly across
the street from Ralph’s store sat the rusted-out hulk of an
electric car.
The streetlight on the corner closest to the store
illuminated a lot of the surrounding area. He kept the
light working for situations like this. Something just
didn’t feel right, so he opened the lock, unwrapped the
chain, and set it down next to the door.
“I’m gonna make sure there’s no one out there to worry
about,” he said to Nang without turning around. “If

somethin’ happens to me and you don’t think you guys can
handle it, lock this door and get back to the stockroom.”
“Alright,” Nang said.
He pushed the door open a couple feet, holding his gun
at his side. He looked to his left then peered around the
front of the door. He saw words spray painted on the face
of the building next to his store.
“What is it?” Nang asked from inside the store.
“They left us a note,” Ralph said.
He leaned farther out into the sidewalk and read it
silently: “You shall be punished for profiting on the pain
of God’s children. We are the path to salvation.”
God’s Children had killed people but it was usually
pretty random. A gun would go off during a robbery or an
act of vandalism would go a little too far. He didn’t
think cold-blooded murder was in the God’s Children’s
repertoire. Then again, maybe he was wrong.
But at that moment, the most important thing was
covering up the message so customers wouldn’t get scared
away. He needed all the customers he could get to pay the
$250s in rent he owed by the next morning.
Ralph stepped back inside.
“So...what’d it say?” Nang asked.

“I wouldn’t worry about it. Usual BS.” Ralph picked
up the chain and lock next to the door. Nang had been a
little on edge the past few days and Ralph didn’t want to
make him more nervous.
“I can handle it.”
“You sure?” Ralph finished locking the door. “You’ve
been kinda...jittery lately. I don’t wanna scare you or
anything.”
“Yeah, no...I’m, you know...” Nang shrugged. “Just
nervous about the rent. Don’t wanna be a nomad again.”
“Alright,” Ralph said. “It was something about
punishing us for profiting from the pain of God’s Children
and they’re the salvation or something.”
Nang tensed up and broke eye contact.
“Does that mean somethin’ to you?”
Nang forced himself to chuckle. “No, it sounds like
usual BS like you said.”
“Are you worried?”
“Maybe. A little. But it’s probably nothin’.”
Ralph patted him on the shoulder. “Why don’t you get
some sleep? Me and Dad’ll watch the door in case they come
back.”
Nang nodded and headed back to the stockroom.

Ralph wasn’t sure if telling Nang about the message
was worse than keeping it from him. He had his doubts
about surviving some kind of full-on assault by dozens of
God’s Children. If that’s what the message meant. It
could just easily have been foreshadowing more attempts at
shoplifting or vandalism. Or more spray-painted messages.
But he figured Nang was just scared of being a nomad
again.
He told Ralph about those years once: his mother
selling her body for food or shelter for him and his
father; never knowing if or from where his next meal would
come; watching from a moldy, maggot-infested dumpster as a
scavenger robbed his parents and bludgeoned them to death
with a leg from an aluminum desk; the paralyzing fear that
kept him from intervening.
Nang’s story wasn’t unique. The Virus Wars turned
hundreds of thousands of ordinary people into nomads.
Ralph’s father claimed that the decades-long series of
little wars and skirmishes traced back to overly excessive
use of antibiotics and hand sanitizer in the first two
decades of the 21st century. Ralph Sr. said it created
super viruses that wiped out cities full of people, causing
conflict over medical resources which only led to more

death and destruction. Eventually, humans became immune to
the viruses and they began trying to rebuild civilization.
Nang was more fortunate than a lot of nomads. Ralph’s
mother and father took him in and loved him like a son.
Ralph’s mother educated him while his father taught him how
to defend himself and use his street smarts. But he
couldn’t run from everything he’d experienced in his
formative years. Nang was more like someone Ralph had
worked with for several years than a brother.
His father approached.
“Everything’s fine,” Ralph said.
“Kids?”
“Yeah. They left a message on the wall. We’ve gotta
figure out how to get it off there before customers start
showing up.”
Ralph grabbed a foldout chair and took a seat next to
the checkout counter.
“Shoot it a few times. Nobody’ll be able to tell what
it is.”
“Yeah, I don’t think we’ve got time for anything else.
I just wish they would’ve left the spray paint. We
could’ve sold it.”
Ralph Sr. smiled. “That would really piss ‘em off
wouldn’t it?”
His son chuckled.
A few minutes later, Ralph’s wife Jodie came walking
down an aisle. “Everything OK?”
“Yeah. We’re fine. You should try to get some more
sleep.”
Jodie frowned. “I thought you said you were gonna
wake me up the next time.”
Ralph Jr. rolled his eyes. “It was nothing. We’re
fine.”
“I don’t wanna wake up and find out you’re dead. OK?”
“I just wanted you to be well rested.”
“Tired I can deal with.” Jodie leaned down and kissed
her husband on the forehead. “Come back to bed. You said
everything’s fine.”
“I can’t,” Ralph Jr. said as he put his hand on her
hip. “I’ve got a bad feeling. Besides, sun’ll be up in a
few hours.” His wrist watch said 5:06.
Jodie sighed. “Alright. But y’know, your dad can
keep watch.”
“Sure,” Ralph Sr. said.
“We’ve got to talk about some things.”
“You guys think exactly the same. What do you know
that he doesn’t?”
Ralph Jr. smiled up at his wife. “I’d just feel more
comfortable out here.”
“Alright,” Jodie said, her voice filled with
resignation.
“I love you,” Ralph Jr. said as she walked away.
“I love you too,” Jodie said passive aggressively
without turning around.
She closed the door to the stockroom behind her.
Ralph Jr. stared at the door for a few moments then looked
at his father, who was smiling.
“What?”
Ralph Sr. shook his head, as if to say, “Nothing.”
“I’d rather she be alive and mad at me than dead.”
“Hey, I understand.”
“Besides, I can spend more time with her after I’ve
made rent for this month.”
Ralph Sr. shrugged. “You’re a chip off the old block.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
His father shook his head. “Hey...I don’t wanna
criticize your relationship.”
Ralph Jr. eyed his father curiously. “What?” He
grabbed his shotgun from the counter and replaced the shell
he had fired earlier.

Ralph Sr. studied his son’s face for a few seconds.
“You’re keeping Jodie and the kids safe so you can spend
time with them. But if you don’t spend time with them, it
kind of defeats the purpose. I didn’t learn that until it
was too late.”
Ralph Jr. frowned. “You spent plenty of time with
mom. I mean, you did the best you could.” His mother died
of cancer 15 years earlier.
“Yeah, I guess so.” His father said slowly. “But
you’re counting on tomorrow.”
Ralph Jr. looked at his father then back at the
stockroom where his wife and kids were sleeping. He’d
never resented his father until after he had a family and
he had to live up to his example. But he couldn’t have his
mind on that and keep his family safe and make rent.
“When does the shipment get in?” His father asked.
“Huh?” Ralph said as he turned back to his father.
“Oh, ah...10.” He checked his wristwatch. “James said 10.
I mean, unless something happens on the way here, which I
don’t even wanna think about.”
“James knows what he’s doing,” Ralph Sr. said. “I
wouldn’t worry about it. He wouldn’t still be delivering
to us if he didn’t have a handle on things.”

“Maybe. Maybe he’s just been lucky so far. I wonder
what he’d do if something really did go down. I don’t
think he could win a staring contest much less a gunfight.
And let’s hope he’s got a good shipment. Not just spare
parts or cell phones.”
James used to be just a common scavenger but he
figured out there was a lot of money to be made selling the
things he found to others. Then he discovered a gas-
powered van that still worked, and the money really started
pouring in. Ralph Jr. wouldn’t have a business without
James.
The problem was that New Ritchie was a really
dangerous place for people who had something to lose. That
fact manifested itself in the prices James charged Ralph
Jr. for the goods he delivered. James always drove away
with boxes of goods that would fly off Ralph Jr.’s shelves
if he had the money to buy them.
Unfortunately, Ralph Jr. and his family couldn’t just
pick up and leave to setup their store in a place where
James would charge them a more reasonable price to deliver
products. New Ritchie didn’t have many other businesses
for his flea market to compete with. That’s why they had
been open for several years. They wouldn’t survive if they
had to start over in a new town with several flea markets

and other businesses. Ralph Jr. would do whatever he had
to do to prevent his family from living on the streets
again.
But things were getting to a point where Ralph Jr.
couldn’t afford to stay. James’ prices kept going up.
God’s Children were getting increasingly bold. Ralph Jr.’s
landlord told him the local government was going to impose
new laws on businesses and start levying taxes on him,
which would be passed down to Ralph Jr. and the other
tenants.
City governments needed more money to build
bureaucracies and begin to reassert authority over their
citizens. Unfortunately, businesses like Ralph Jr.’s would
probably become casualties in that quest for authority.
Ralph Jr. and his father talked for an hour, keeping
watch on the street outside. Then Ralph Jr. went outside
and fired several shotgun shells into the wall to get rid
of the message from God’s Children, like his father had
suggested.
When he got back inside, he and his father began
setting up the store for business. They opened the
stockroom, wedged the door, and carried out boxes of
clothes, books, CDs, canned food, and other items they

didn’t sell the day before. Ralph Jr. wanted to get
everything off the shelves by the time the shipment arrived.
They stocked the items in the middle of an aisle.
They never put anything in the front of the store because
customers would steal as much of it as they could.
By that time, Nang, Jodie, Riley, and Jane were awake.
Jodie got the kids dressed and made breakfast for everyone.
Ralph Sr. chowed down on a can of baked beans while Jodie
and Ralph Jr. shared a can of dark tuna. Jodie opened a
can of peaches for Jodie and Riley to share, which took a
little stern language.
“Riley, you can start work without breakfast if you
want!”
Riley stared down at the floor and mumbled something.
“What was that?”
“Fine. I’ll share,” he said angrily. Jane smiled as
she shoveled a peach slice into her mouth. Riley gave her
a dirty look.
“Don’t give your mother a hard time today,” Ralph Jr.
said. “We’ve got a lot to do...and maybe...if you’re
really good today, we can play chess after we close.”
“Really?” Riley said.
“Can I play too?” Jane asked.
“If you’re really good, maybe.”

Ralph Sr. chimed in, “How bout you and me against your
old man? I taught him everything he knows.”
“Yeah,” Riley said.
Ralph Jr. frowned at his father. “I think they’re
getting tired of watching you beat me.”
“Well,” Ralph Sr. said, leaning back in his chair.
“Maybe you’re right. I’m just better than you. Guess I
should stop trying to prove it.”
“Can I sell some stuff today Dad?”
Ralph narrowed his eyes and glanced briefly at his
father. “Alright. Later tonight before we close. But
only if you don’t give your mom any more trouble.”
Riley’s face lit up.
“Finish up.” Ralph ruffled his son’s hair.
Riley grabbed another peach slice out of the can and
shoved the whole thing in his mouth.
Ralph leaned back in his chair and winked at his wife.
An hour later, at 8:30, Ralph Jr. unlocked the front
door to officially open the store. The unforgiving sun
peaked out above the partially destroyed buildings, melting
the morning dew off of the vines and weeds attempting to
retake the streets from the concrete and metal progress of
humanity.
Ralph saw pimps and prostitutes making their morning
rounds. They traded sex for just about anything (clothes,
food, guns, money). He saw the token street rats and
scavengers.
But some people were headed east toward city hall,
either for a job or to help out the fledgling government in
any way they were able and hopefully make some money in the
process.
The people with jobs had a confidence about them that
was almost indescribable. Hopelessness was all around
them, but they could ignore it because when they left their
homes they felt like they were contributing something to
society. When they watched the sun rise they saw all the
possibilities of a new day, while others felt oppressive
heat and struggled to cope with the feeling that they could
die at any moment. Ralph Jr. was somewhere in the middle.
He didn’t think the world was completely irredeemable but
the reality was that too much hope was life threatening in
New Ritchie.
Nang stood by the store entrance, Ralph Jr.’s
Remington shotgun in his hands and a bandolier around his
body. It was Nang’s job to keep out potential shoplifters,
God’s Children, and anyone else he thought might put
himself or the Connors family in danger. Most people who

lived in New Ritchie were armed at all times, but some
people were crazy and Ralph Jr. didn’t want to put his wife
or kids in any unnecessary danger.
Jodie stood behind the checkout counter with Riley and
Jane. She had a .45 holstered on her hip and a 12-gauge on
a swivel hidden under the counter. Ralph Jr. and his
father roamed the store to help customers and negotiate
prices. Ralph Jr. had cut out cubby holes in the checkout
counter that his children could climb into in an emergency.
He had welded metal plates around the insides of the cubby
holes to make them bullet proof.
Ralph Jr. was armed with Nang’s Glock. His father had
his sawed-off shotgun and a .22 pistol hidden under his
chair.
Their first customer was a balding man of average
height with a greasy beard and twitchy eyes. What was left
of his hair went down to his shoulders.
Ralph Jr. approached the man when Nang let him in.
“What’re you lookin’ for?” he asked very seriously. He
didn’t project any false happiness or friendliness. It
wouldn’t have worked anyway.
“We’ve got clothes, canned food, books, music?”
The customer searched the shelves as he spoke.
“Actually, I’ve been reading this book about card games. I

wanted to play some of ‘em with my roommates. Do you got
any playing cards?”
Ralph Jr. did but they belonged to his kids. They’d
throw a fit if he sold them. But he could tell that the
customer in front of him was ready to spend money and he
couldn’t let someone like that out of his store without
buying something. Besides, there was a good chance James
would have some in one of his next few shipments. Maybe he
could convince the kids that they’d lost them for a few
days.
Ralph Jr. slowly nodded. “Yeah. I’ve got one pack
left. It’s good you got here when you did. But I don’t
come across those very often. I’d say they’re worth...”
Ralph Jr. liked to pretend to be thinking about a
reasonable price. But he thought of a ridiculous price the
moment the customer asked for the item.
“I’ll sell them for two dollars.”
“Two dollars?!” The customer stared at Ralph Jr. for a
moment, his jaw dropping a little. “Why don’t ya just
charge me five?”
“Well, now that you mention it, two fifty is probably
better.”
“C’mon man. 50 cents is totally fair.”

Ralph Jr. smirked. “Look, just because it’s nine in
the morning doesn’t mean you can rip me off. Two fifty,
take it or leave it. I mean, it sounds like you’re really
excited about playing those card games you’ve been reading
about. Cards are a luxury. You always gotta pay more for
that.”
The customer shook his head, turned, and started
walking away.
Ralph Jr. sighed. “Alright, fine...a dollar seventy
five.”
The man continued walking.
“Dollar sixty?”
The man stood still for a few moments then said,
“Dollar thirty five.”
Ralph Jr. put on a sinister smile, knowing the
customer couldn’t see him. “Dollar fifty. Final offer.
You’re not gonna find a better deal. Trust me.”
The customer turned around and stared at the floor,
shaking his head. “Alright, where are they?”
“Wait right here,” Ralph Jr. said, holding up his
index finger. He didn’t want the man going to the checkout
counter and asking Jodie for playing cards. She knew the
only set of playing cards in the store belonged to the
kids. She wouldn’t sell them and she’d be furious with

Ralph Jr. for trying it. She’d find out eventually, but he
might have another pack of cards by that point.
“You lookin’ for anything else?” Ralph Jr. grabbed a
can of fruit. “These peaches are really good. My kids
love ‘em. You need a new shirt? We’ve got a bunch of ‘em
in really good shape.”
“No, I don’t have--”
“--Well, take a look around. I’ll be right back.”
Ralph Jr. made eye contact with his father, who was at
the front of the store, and nodded twice, which was the
signal to follow the customer to make sure he didn’t steal
anything.
Ralph Jr. was out of the stockroom a minute later,
hustling over to the customer. “OK. That’s a dollar
fifty. Did you find anything else you wanted?”
The customer reached into his pocket for the money.
He handed Ralph two dollars and he gave the customer 50
cents back. As the customer pocketed the deck of cards,
Ralph Jr. grabbed a can of rotini in tomato sauce. “I’ll
throw this in for a dollar 15.”
“You charged me 70 cents for that last time.”
“Well, as you can see, I don’t have much canned food
left. I gotta make this last.” Ralph Jr. rolled the can
around between his hands. “This’ll be a pretty nice meal
tonight. Get a fire goin’. Heat it up.”
The customer bit his lip and looked around the store
as he thought about it. He looked at Ralph Jr. and put up
his index finger. “One dollar.”
“It’s a deal.”
When the transaction was completed Ralph Jr. went to
the checkout counter and handed the money to Jodie. When
the store wasn’t busy Ralph did transactions on the floor
rather than risk the customer trying to run out of the
store with the item he wanted to buy.
“What’d he buy?” Jodie asked.
“Canned food,” Ralph Jr. said quickly, as he walked
back toward the middle of the store.
They got several more customers that morning,
including a boy of about 15 or 16 years who came in and
sifted through the shirts that were left on the shelves.
Ralph Jr. walked briskly over to him.
“Can I help you with something?”
The boy looked up at him and smiled. “No, just
looking. Thanks.”
“Kid like you doesn’t just look. You got any money?”
“Yeah, man. Relax.”

Ralph Jr. spun the kid around and searched his pockets
for money, clutching a handful of the teen’s shirt to
prevent him from running away.
“Man cut it out! I said I got money.” The teen pulled
on his shirt to get it out of Ralph Jr.’s grasp. So Ralph
Jr. put the kid in a choke hold and pushed him up against
the shelves to his right as he searched the teen’s front
pockets.
Someone from behind Ralph Jr. asked, “Ah, excuse me,
do you own this place?”
“Yeah,” Ralph Jr. said through gritted teeth, not
turning his head to face the man. “Hold on a sec.”
He didn’t find any money in the kid’s pockets so he
released him from the choke hold and spun him around,
keeping a tight grip on his shirt. “Don’t ever come in
here without any money again. Next time you might not
leave alive. Now get the hell out.”
Ralph Jr. released the teen’s shirt and stepped back
so he could walk away.
“You better be glad you let me go,” the teen said.
Ralph Jr. drew Nang’s Glock from the holster on his
hip and touched the muzzle to the teen’s forehead. “You
wanna test me? Go ahead.”

The teen took one step away, Ralph Jr. keeping the
muzzle against his forehead. Ralph Jr. began gently
squeezing the trigger and the teen turned and ran out of
the store.
Ralph Jr. smiled and was about to holster his gun when
his father’s shotgun went off, spraying pieces of aluminum
shelving in all directions.
“Shoplifter!” Ralph Sr. yelled. The man who had asked
Ralph Jr. if he owned the store dropped into a crouch and
drew a Beretta from a shoulder holster.
Ralph Jr. saw someone run out the front of an aisle
and head to the door. Nang turned to face the man but for
some reason didn’t raise his shotgun. Ralph gave his
adopted brother one more second to take down the shoplifter
then aimed and put a slug in the shoplifter’s head. Nang
turned sideways and covered his face with his forearm as a
thin line of blood shot out of the newly formed hole in the
shoplifter’s forehead. The force of the gunshot snapped
the man’s head back and sent him into a belly flop on the
floor. Ralph Jr. lowered the gun and looked over at Jodie
and the kids.
“You guys OK?”

Jodie had her .45 aimed at the shoplifter’s body in
case he wasn’t dead. Riley was peeking over the counter
and Jane must have been sitting behind it.
Ralph Jr. looked down at the man with the Beretta.
“Me and my family are the only ones who can shoot people in
here. If you wanna buy something you better holster that
thing.”
The man stared at Ralph Jr., gauging whether he could
trust him. He clicked on the safety and lowered the gun
but didn’t holster it. “You didn’t even check to see if he
actually stole something. You’ll excuse me if I’m a little
on edge.”
Ralph Jr. stared at him, waiting for him to back down.
But the other man calmly stood, still holding his gun. He
was a lot more confident than most of Ralph’s customers.
He obviously respected himself. His shirt was tucked in.
His hair was combed. At first glance he looked like he’d
be easy to beat up and rob. But his eyes said different.
They reminded him of his own eyes.
Ralph Jr. said, “If you raise that thing above your
stomach I’m gonna shoot you somewhere it’ll really hurt.
Then I’m gonna kill you.”
“Fair enough.”
Ralph walked past him and knelt down next to the
shoplifter. He checked his pulse to confirm that he was
dead.
Ralph stood and confronted Nang. “Why didn’t you
shoot him Nang? That was your shot. I almost missed.”
“I thought you had him.”
“You’ve got a shotgun,” Ralph said, pausing for
dramatic effect. “One shot and he’s down. He could’ve had
a gun. If I didn’t get him in the head he could’ve taken
it out and shot at me or Jodie or the kids.”
Nang nervously clutched the shotgun in both hands. He
stared down at the floor.
Ralph snapped his fingers. “Hey, what the hell’s
goin’ on? I can’t be worried about you for the rest of the
day. There’s too much stuff to sell.”
“I’ll be more careful next time.” Nang looked up at
Ralph for just a second. “I shouldn’t have let him in the
store. I just knew we needed a lot of customers today.”
Ralph Jr. rubbed his jaw. “I guess that kid was
borderline. I’m better at reading people than you. But
still...I don’t care about the rent when it comes to
safety. If it’s 8 and we’re not close to making rent, then
we’ll talk about letting in dangerous people. I can lock

the kids in the stockroom. But that’s a last resort. Just
treat this like any other day, unless I tell you otherwise.”
“Alright.”
“Are you only worried about God’s Children?
“Yeah, maybe.”
Ralph studied the other man’s face. Tomorrow Ralph
might have to put his wife at the door, even though he
shuddered at the thought of putting her right in the line
of fire. But what did that say about his relationship with
Nang?
“There’s blood on his shirt collar but his shoes and
pants are fine,” Jodie said, kneeling next to the
shoplifter’s body.
Ralph said, “Let’s get those on the shelves and clean
this up.” He looked at Nang. “Stall people at the door.
They can’t see this. Might scare ‘em off.”
“Yeah,” Nang said.
Ralph pushed the confusion about what was going on
with Nang out of his mind.
Ralph Jr. took off the man’s pants and shoes and
handed them to his father who stocked them on the shelf
with the other clothes. They put the body in a dumpster
outside the back door.

It took Jodie a few minutes to clean up the blood and
chunks of the shoplifter’s brain that the bullet from
Nang’s Glock had sprayed all over the floor by the front
door.
Ralph walked back over to the man holding the Beretta.
“So whaddyou need?”
The man holstered his gun and Ralph Jr. followed suit.
He stuck his hand out for Ralph Jr. to shake. “Harold
Furlong. My friends call me Harry.”
They shook hands. “Then I’ll call you Mr. Furlong.
What were you looking to buy today?”
“Oh, nothing. I actually just wanted to talk. See
I’m the new sheriff-”
“Look, this is a flea market, we talk about what you’re
gonna buy.”
“I know you’re busy,” Furlong said. “I just need a
few minutes.”
“Fine. But you gotta buy something.”
“Alright.” He grabbed the first thing he could find,
a paperback book. “How much for this?”
“For you? Seven bucks.”
“Five.”
Ralph Jr. shook his head. “It’s seven dollars. If
you wanna talk, that’s what it’s gonna cost. Either take
it or get out.”
Furlong reached into his shirt pocket, counted seven
dollars, and handed them to Ralph Jr. He pocketed the money
and crossed his arms in front of his chest. “Now, you got
two minutes. Make it quick.”
Furlong cleared his throat. “As I was saying, I’m the
new sheriff. We’re recruiting people to the police
department. Mayor Green wants to start enforcing some laws
and making the streets safer for people like you and your
family. I thought you’d want to be part of it.”
Ralph Jr. stared at him for a few moments. “You want
me to become a police officer?” He chuckled. “In New
Ritchie?”
“Yes. I’ve seen the way you-”
“-Hey Dad!” Ralph Sr. began heading to their aisle.
“Yeah?”
“Whaddyou think the survival rate is for policemen in
New Ritchie?”
The other man chuckled. “A few days, a week if you’re
lucky. I mean, that’s my best guess. Why?”

Ralph Jr. put his hand on Furlong’s shoulder and
pointed at him with his other hand. “This guy’s the new
sheriff. He wants me to help him clean up the streets.”
“Harry Furlong.” He stuck out his hand and Ralph Sr.
shook it. “Nice to meet you. Did you fight in the wars?”
“I think everybody my age did son. What about your
old man?”
“He fought in the Battle of Pittsburgh. Made it out
alive but he didn’t live much longer after that.”
“Sorry to hear it. Must’ve been a tough SOB to make
it outta there alive.”
“He was. Thank you.”
“Like father like son I guess, huh?”
Furlong nodded, smiling. “That’s what I’ve been
told.”
“I meant that you both seem to like attempting the
impossible.”
“Just wanna get civilization going again.”
Ralph Jr. jumped in, “You could just try surviving.”
Ralph Sr. looked from his son to Furlong. “Yeah. I
didn’t know him but I’ll bet your old man wanted you to
stick around awhile.”
“With all due respect,” Furlong looked away then back
in Ralph Sr.’s eyes. “With your son’s help, I think I can

stick around quite a while. All it takes is a few strong
leaders then everybody else falls in line. Before you know
it, people are thinking twice about robbing somebody or
shooting anybody they want to.”
Ralph Jr. shook his head. “It’s gonna take a lot more
than that in New Ritchie. You wanna make a difference you
should go somewhere else.”
“Look, I know this is gonna be really dangerous.
People will die. But what’s the alternative? The status
quo? Walking down the street knowing you’ve got a 30
percent chance of getting robbed, killed, or both? Then
getting eaten by cannibals,” Furlong shook his head. “We
can’t go on like this. There’s no future in it.”
“Well,” Ralph Jr. said. “You and the mayor and
everybody else down at city hall can do whatever you want.
I’m not helping you. My life’s already on the line. I’m
not gonna put a big red target on my back.”
“We’re all gonna protect each other, and our
families,” Furlong said quickly. “I mean, if you joined us
you might actually be safer than you are now.”
“You’re gonna protect me? I blew some guy’s brains
out and you didn’t lift a finger to stop me. You were more
concerned about protecting yourself...not that I blame you.”

Furlong looked from Ralph Jr. to his father. They
stared back confidently. “Sleep on it then.”
Ralph Jr. slowly shook his head. “Don’t need to.”
Furlong exhaled heavily. “I’ll come back tomorrow
anyways, just in case.”
“Hey Nang?”
“Yeah?” Nang asked without looking back at them.
“Remember this guy’s face. Never allow him in here
again.”
Nang said, “I’ll memorize his face when I watch him
leave.”
Ralph Jr. smiled at Furlong, who nodded and turned to
leave. After a few steps he stopped and turned back
around, “But I will be back tomorrow.”
No one responded so he continued walking and left.
Ralph Sr. said, “His old man must’ve been a stubborn
SOB. I didn’t wanna insult his son, that’s why I said
‘tough’ before. He had a good point though.”
Jodie walked over and stood next to her husband. “So
he wanted you to be a police officer?”
“Yeah,” Ralph Jr. said while staring at his father.
“So you think I should help him?”

“I’m not saying that,” Ralph Sr. said as he leaned
back in his chair. “But humanity can’t survive if
everyone’s only out for themselves.”
“Maybe you’re right. But I know how to survive the
way things are. I don’t think Furlong really understands
what he’s getting himself into. Besides, maybe he’s only
got himself to think about.”
Ralph Jr. put his arm around his wife and squeezed her
a little closer to him. “Anyways, we better open this
place back up before we lose too many customers.”
But even though Ralph Jr. didn’t like to admit it,
there was some truth to what Furlong had said. He just
didn’t have time to think about very deeply.
At 10:30 Ralph Jr. began getting a little worried that
something happened to James on the road. But he showed up
a few minutes later, wisps of smoke coming out of the
radiator, wheels grinding on their axles. James put the
van in park on the sidewalk to the right of the door. He
never shut off the engine for fear that it wouldn’t
restart. His entire livelihood depended on the van.
When Ralph Jr. saw the van pull up, he had Jodie rush
the kids into the stockroom. She left the door cracked so
they could hear if Ralph Jr. or someone else yelled

“lockdown.” Riley was in charge of closing the door if the
order was given.
Ralph Sr. herded the customers who were in the store
outside. “Walk around for a half hour. We want your
business but we just don’t trust you.”
Several people started walking away but a few
backpedaled. Ralph Sr. aimed his shotgun at one of them.
“You think you can get a gun on me before I blow a hole in
your chest?” He smiled slyly and turned around to leave.
Ralph Sr. stared after him, making sure he kept walking.
“Same thing goes for the rest of you!” Ralph Sr.’s
voice echoed down the street. He pointed his shotgun in
the air and fired. Then he pointed his free hand at the
store behind him. “We could hole up in there for three
days without running out of ammo.”
Nang wedged the front door open and stood guard
outside it with Ralph Sr., who replaced the shells he had
already fired. Passersby steered clear of that side of the
street. A few stopped to try to see what was in the boxes
in James’ van. But they resumed walking when their eyes
met Nang or Ralph Sr.’s. Every now and then an orphan or a
teenager who looked like trouble began crossing the street.
Sometimes Nang would handle it by raising his Remington or

telling the kid to leave. For Ralph Sr., all it took was a
stone-faced glare.
Ralph Jr. greeted James when he came out the back of
the van.
“Any trouble?”
James shook his head as he pushed the double doors
open as far as they would go. “I left a little bit later
than usual. Don’t have an alarm clock.”
“I think I was born with an internal alarm.”
James smirked. “You were born with an itchy trigger
finger. Kill anybody today?” He got back into the van and
began moving boxes around.
“Shoplifter.”
“D’you keep his clothes?”
“His pants and his shoes. Sold ‘em earlier. I got
blood on his shirt though.”
James tilted his head back slightly. “What’d you blow
a hole in his chest?”
“No, it was a head shot. But I was using a Glock. It
didn’t knock him down fast enough.”
“How much did you get for the clothes?”
Ralph Jr. put his hand to his chest. “These are
closely guarded secrets buddy. I tell you that you might
start ripping me off more than you already are.”

“Alright alright.” James said with his hands up.
“Whaddyou got today?” Ralph Jr. asked as his wife
walked out of the store with the 12-gauge from under the
counter in one hand and an assault rifle and bandolier in
the other.
“Good stuff,” James said as he lifted a cardboard box
and set it down in front of Ralph Jr. “Check this out.”
“Oh baby,” Ralph Jr. said as saw what his wife was
carrying. “Honey you’ve never looked sexier.”
She smiled as he slung the bandolier and assault rifle
over his shoulder. She took up a position on the other
side of the van. Then Ralph Jr. turned back to the box to
see what James had.
“We got Irish whiskey, Jack Daniels, spiced rum,
spiked fruit drinks, wine, gin...everything ‘cept beer,”
James said.
“You ever get any beer?”
“No. Not enough to sell.” James shook his head.
“I’ve had a few in my life but I always keep them for
myself.”
Ralph Jr. sighed. “You are one lucky bastard.”
“Don’t I know it,” James said, smiling.
“How much for the whole box?”

James took a second to respond. “Somebody’s movin’ up
in the world. You sure you can afford this?”
Ralph Jr. nodded.
“I’d part with this whole thing for...40 bucks.”
“C’mon...30?”
“I’ve got some rare stuff here Ralph. I may not come
across whiskey or rum or gin again for a while.”
Ralph Jr. began doing math in his head. Rent was
$250. He had $113.65. But alcohol would fly off the
shelves. He just had to make more money than he was giving
to James. At $30 he could get 50 bucks or more from his
customers if he really pushed them. Anything higher than
$30 was really pushing it. He couldn’t spend all of his
money on the shipment or they wouldn’t make rent.
“Let’s come back to that,” Ralph Jr. said.
James also had lots of clothes, canned food, books,
and four hot plates. Those would go for 15 bucks a pop.
But James wanted $10 for each one.
After James showed Ralph Jr. everything he had, and
quoted prices, Ralph Jr. began putting together his order
in his head.
“I’ll give you $30 for the alcohol, 15 for the canned
food, 15 for the clothes, 20 for two hot plates, and 10 for
the books.”
James rolled his tongue around in his mouth. “32 for
the alcohol, 14 for the food, and 9 for the books.”
“31. And 14 for the clothes.”
James shook his head. “I was willing to go 35 but,
31’s way too low.”
“Take out the bottle of wine.”
James smiled and took out the bottle of wine. “31 it
is.” They shook on it and James started moving the boxes
with the items Ralph Jr. bought to the threshold of the van
doors.
Ralph Jr. walked around the side of the van and his
wife looked at him. “I think we’re gonna be OK. If we get
enough customers we might have it before it starts getting
dark.”
Jodie smiled. “That’s great. Now we just gotta get
it inside the store and get James outta here before anybody
tries anything.”
After paying James for two of the five boxes and
setting them down inside the store, Ralph Jr. and Jodie
walked back outside to get the next two boxes. Jodie stood
a couple feet behind Ralph Jr., studying the street rats
and other dregs in their vicinity, making sure none of them
presented a serious threat.

Ralph Sr. focused on one woman about a block away. He
stared at her for 15 seconds then looked at the people on
the other side of the street. He looked up at the building
on the other side of the street opposite the flea market.
Jodie followed his gaze and saw two people standing on the
ledge staring back at them. One of them had one of his
hands hidden behind his back.
“Hon’?”
Jodie flinched. “Oh,” she said, surprised. Ralph Jr.
was standing in front of her, a box in his hands. Then she
remembered that she was helping her husband take the boxes
into the store. “Sorry,” Jodie said as she grabbed the
box, turned around and headed into the store. Ralph Jr.
was half a dozen steps behind her.
When she got inside, Jodie set the box on the checkout
counter and headed back to the door. Ralph Jr. smiled at
her as he crossed the threshold and she approached. She
smiled back then reflexively ducked her head into her body
as she heard Ralph Sr.’s sawed-off shotgun go off. Ralph
Jr. dropped the box of clothes he was carrying on the tile
floor, kicked it like a soccer ball down an aisle, and ran
to Jodie.
Then it became apparent what his father was warning
them about as bullets and shells rained down on the door

and building face around it. Ralph Jr. and his wife ducked
behind the checkout counter.
“Riley! Lockdown!” Ralph Jr. called toward the
stockroom. “Don’t open that door unless you hear the
password!”
When the gunfire stopped, Jodie swallowed and said, “I
think we’re surrounded. I saw some people on the roof
across the street.”
Ralph Jr. took the assault rifle off his shoulder and
clicked off the safety. “You’re damn right we’re in
trouble. If we don’t get that other box we’re not gonna
make rent.”
And if I know James he’s about to leave, Ralph Jr.
thought. He quickly kissed his wife on the cheek.
“Whatever you do, don’t give ‘em a clear shot at you. I’ll
be right back.”
“I love you,” Ralph Jr. said as he stood. Then he
crouched down and slowly approached the door.
“Forget the box, we’ll be lucky to make it outta this
alive,” Jodie said.
Ralph Jr. heard a loud crash as a pleather office
chair flew out of the window of the abandoned store next to
his. It hit the sidewalk and tumbled onto the street.
“Exactly, I don’t wanna come outta this empty-handed.”

Then gun fire erupted through the newly opened window.
Ralph Jr. waited for return fire then charged out of the
store and stepped up into the back of James’ van just as
the other man put it in gear and floored the accelerator.
The forward momentum sent Ralph Jr. sprawling onto a layer
of cardboard boxes. The van swerved onto the street,
slamming Ralph Jr. into the broken sliding door, bullets
whizzing by as they pierced the rusted metal ceiling and
sides of the van.
Ralph Jr. groaned.
James looked behind him for a second. “Sorry man.
Not gonna have a business if I get killed.”
The gunfire stopped as the van got farther away from
the attackers.
Ralph Jr. steadied himself against the broken door,
panting. “I got one box left. It’s gonna keep us off the
street one more month.”
“That’s what you’re thinking about right now?”
“Yeah,” Ralph Jr. said as walked behind the driver’s
seat and touched the muzzle of his assault rifle to the
back of James’ neck. “That and I need the van for a few
minutes.”
James looked up at the other man. “C’mon, I don’t
wanna get involved in this,” James whined.

“You know I don’t care about that...and you know I’ll
pull the trigger.”
James didn’t respond so Ralph Jr. aimed his weapon out
the back of the van and fired off a few rounds. James
leaned away from Ralph Jr., his forearm blocking his face.
“Alright! Dammit!”
Ralph Jr. lowered the rifle. “Lemme drive.”
James’ heart fluttered. “D’you even know how to
drive?”
“Just get up,” Ralph Jr. said impatiently. James
stopped the car, put it in park, started to get up and was
thrown into the passenger seat. “My dad taught me.”
“When?” James asked. “20 years ago.”
“19,” Ralph Jr. said matter-of-factly as he surveyed
the steering wheel, pedals, and gear shift.
“Yeah, well...you wreck my van up and I’ll kill you,”
James said, his false bravado readily apparent to Ralph Jr.
who smirked at the other man for a second then looked back
at the dashboard.
“Accelerator’s on the right, right?”
“Yeah.”
Ralph Jr. checked the rearview mirror, put the van in
reverse, and rested his hand on the back of James’ chair.

“Better hold onto something. This could get bumpy,” Ralph
Jr. said, smiling deviously.
James turned to look out the back of the van and was
thrown into the dashboard without time to brace himself.
His head smacked into the top of dashboard, blurring his
vision for a few moments.
Ralph Jr. jerked the wheel to the right and James
heard a loud thud as the bumper hit one of their attackers
in the chest.
James shook away the fog in his vision and looked out
the windshield. Two men and a woman stood a little less
than 10 feet away from the van, guns drawn. James turned
to Ralph Jr., who stared intently back at one of them.
“Ever heard of a game called chicken?” Ralph Jr.
asked.
“I--I,” James stuttered. “What?”
“My old man played it in the marines. A course, they
had two cars but...I think this is a similar situation.”
One of the attackers started talking. “Whatever’s in
there belongs to everyone. You have no special right to
it.”
Ralph Jr. ignored the woman. “I’m really gonna enjoy
this.” He thought his store was being attacked by God’s

Children from the start, but there were other street gangs.
The sun tattoos confirmed it.
“...give it up and no one will be hurt. Then we’ll
talk about shutting down your store.”
Ralph Jr. stuck his head out the window. “You really
think killing me’ll shut down the store? My old man used
to kill jerks like you in his spare time. For fun!”
He lowered his head back into the vehicle and grabbed
the gear shift.
“Please,” the woman was saying. “This is not how God
wants us to live. You must join us. We didn’t survive the
wars to kill each other and force people to pay for the
things they need to survive.”
Ralph Jr. smiled. “You might wanna get down when I
put this thing in gear.”
The God’s Children still hadn’t raised their weapons.
“Wait, wait, wait!” James insisted.
Ralph Jr. put the van in drive and floored the
accelerator. As he did he ducked behind the dashboard.
After half a second Ralph Jr. swerved left. The left side
of the van violently bobbed up and down two times as one of
the God’s Children was crushed under the wheels.
Ralph Jr. looked up in time to jerk the wheel to the
left, narrowly avoiding a head-on collision with the brick

corner of the first building on the next block. James
covered his head with his arms and leaned away from the
window as the right side of the van scraped along the front
of a building. The side-view mirror crumpled into the van,
sparks shooting out in all directions. After a few seconds
it broke off and tumbled away behind the van.
Ralph Jr. veered away from the building and back onto
the road. Gunfire ricocheted off one of the double doors
as it squeaked around in its hinges. The other door had
slammed shut. Ralph Jr. careened around a corner,
continuing to accelerate.
Ralph Jr. knew he had to get back to the store before
his wife or father, or both of them, got killed.
“You’re running now?” James asked.
Ralph Jr. made another right turn. “We’ll sneak up on
‘em back at the store. Jodie said there’s people on the
roof across the street. If we kill ‘em and take their
positions this thing’ll be over in a minute.”
“Why are you including me?”
Ralph Jr. turned right. “You really need me to answer
that?”
“Look, I know if I leave you’ll come get me. I’m not
an idiot.”
Ralph Jr. said, “There’s at least two or three people
up there. I can’t do this by myself...By the way, you got
a gun?”
James exhaled. “Yeah...course.” He reached under
Ralph Jr.’s seat and pulled out a carbine machine gun.
Ralph Jr. eyed him suspiciously as James checked the clip
to make sure there were bullets in it.
“I’m surprised you didn’t try to pull that out when I
jumped in.”
James frowned. “I didn’t think you’d threaten to kill
me and hijack my van. Besides...I ah...”
“What?” Ralph Jr. asked as he made a right turn and
put the van in park in front of what used to be a corporate
office building. Gunshots ringing out outside.
“I’ve never...you know,” James gestured at the other
man. “Killed anybody.”
Ralph Jr. did a double take. His mouth began to form
words but no sound came out for a few seconds. “Never?
Not once?”
James shrugged.
“I don’t know if I should be surprised or worried.”
Ralph Jr. opened the driver’s side door and got out.
“C’mon, now,” he ordered James, who quickly got out of the

car. “You got any way to lock this up so somebody doesn’t
steal what’s inside while we’re gone?”
Ralph Jr. saw a few people approaching from the east
and west. James locked his door and shut it, walked around
to the back, and pulled out what looked to Ralph Jr. like a
big metal vice. James placed it around one of the back
tires and pulled a lever. The vice automatically closed
around the tire.
“What’s that do?” Ralph Jr. asked.
“Keeps the wheel from moving,” James said as he closed
the double doors and turned a handle. Ralph Jr. heard a
thud. “That puts a metal bar across these doors. But
people can still get in through the windows.”
Ralph Jr. shut and locked the driver’s side door.
“Hopefully nobody that comes by is that smart.” He turned
to the building and looked up to the roof.
They rushed inside. Ralph Jr. took the lead because
he wasn’t afraid of James shooting him. The building was
only four floors high so it didn’t take them to long to get
up the stairs that led up to the roof. They didn’t
encounter anyone on their way up. The God’s Children
weren’t smart enough to guard the roof entrance, even
though firing positions on the roof were their biggest
advantages in the gunfight.

Ralph Jr. sat down on the staircase below the door to
the roof. “I’m gonna open the door. You come right up
beside me and start shooting as soon as you see people.
When I duck back inside you’ve gotta be right with me or
you could get shot. I don’t know. These guys aren’t very
good shots.”
James nodded and swallowed.
Ralph Jr. put his hand on his shoulder and squeezed
it. “You may not even hit anybody. I’ll probably be the
one who kills them. Just don’t hit me.”
James nodded, his face extremely serious. Probably
too much so.
Ralph Jr. slung his assault rifle around his back and
walked up the stairs until the door prevented him from
walking up any further. James stepped up beside him,
sweaty palms clutching his weapon.
Ralph Jr. put his palms on the door and pushed up with
as much force as he could muster. The door turned out to
be a lot easier to open than he expected. It flew open and
slammed onto the gravel on the roof as air whooshed in.
The extra momentum from Ralph Jr.’s overcompensation sent
his upper body flopping over on top of the door. James
stepped up next to Ralph Jr. a second later, hesitated, and
opened fire on the backs of two of the gunners. He pumped

several rounds into one of them, sending him plummeting off
the roof. As he fell over the ledge, he collided with the
other gunner and grabbed at him. But the other gunner
quickly slapped his friend’s hand away before he was pulled
over the edge.
Then the person on the roof who had been facing them
the whole time began to raise his gun. Ralph Jr. ducked
and pulled James down with him. They both ducked their
heads down as gunfire passed over the open door.
“Nice work. You almost gave us an advantage.”
The gunfire stopped after a couple seconds. Ralph Jr.
pulled out Nang’s Glock from a holster on the back of his
belt and rested it on the edge of the doorway – it was at a
45-degree angle. He slid it along the edge and stopped in
the general direction of the person who was facing them
when he opened the door. Ralph Jr. just started firing and
sliding the gun left and right along the edge, hoping to
hit something. The gun clicked as the clip was empty. A
moment later Ralph Jr. heard a crunch that sounded like
someone’s knees hitting the gravel.
He sat back down on one of the steps and tossed aside
the empty clip. He put the Glock back in his holster and
unslung his assault rifle. He looked into James’ eyes.
“I’m gonna stick my hand up so the last guy can see it.
He’ll fire then we fire back in the direction. As long as
we get a piece of him we can finish this right now.”
James nodded slightly, his stomach tightening and
heart rate spiking.
Ralph Jr. stuck his hand out and quickly lowered it
when he heard the first gun shot in the volley, but he
didn’t pull it back quick enough because a bullet nicked
the meaty part of his palm. He squinted in pain but
quickly refocused and lifted his assault rifle as James
did. They returned fire until the other person stopped
firing. Ralph Jr. stopped firing and James followed suit.
He looked to Ralph Jr. for instructions. Ralph Jr. took
out the empty clip and quietly set it on the top step. He
reloaded and took a few deep breaths.
He walked up a couple steps, being careful to keep his
body below the plane of the roof. He closed his eyes and
tried to remember where the gunfire came from. He pointed
his head to the northeast corner of the roof. He stood up
straight, raised his rifle and let off three shots. He
panned left with his rifle then back to the right.
“We’re clear,” he said.
But James didn’t move.
Ralph Jr. looked down at him. “C’mon, we’re good.”

James slowly walked up the steps, holding his gun in a
death grip, his clammy, white-knuckled hands frozen in
place.
“Hey Dad! It’s Ralph! I’m on the roof on the other
side of the street! I think there’s only a few a these
punks left!”
James surveyed the roof. A blond-haired man of about
22 years lay on his stomach, blood pooling underneath him.
A pained, nauseous expression on his nearly colorless face.
He reached for his gun, but it was just out of his reach.
On the other side of the roof a man lay on his back, limp.
Ralph Jr. pulled James forward and he walked up the
rest of the steps. Ralph Jr. stepped onto the roof and
hustled to the southeast corner. As he got closer he
crouched down and fired at the street in front of the
building opposite the one Nang and his father had ducked
into when the God’s Children first attacked.
He killed one person then dropped onto his stomach as
they returned fire. Then fire began pouring out of his
store and the abandoned building next to it. The attackers
turned their attention in that direction, allowing Ralph
Jr. to stand back up and actually take the time to aim at
people. He quickly killed a woman who was crouched down
behind a stripped electric car. Fire from his store killed

someone who was squatting next to where the rear bumper
used to be.
The last man left behind the car dropped his pistol
and ran down the street as fast as he could. Ralph Jr.
Nang and his father fired behind him, just to make sure
he’d keep running.
Ralph Jr. surveyed the area to make sure there were no
more God’s Children around. He turned back to see James
walk over to the ledge and look around.
All of the sudden, James opened fire on the street a
couple blocks from the store. Ralph Jr. jogged over and
saw the last two God’s Children who chased them when they
were in the van. James was a horrible shot from that
distance but he succeeded in scaring them off. They both
ran in opposite direction without looking back.
Ralph Jr. patted him on the back. “For your first
gunfight I’d say you did pretty well.”
They quickly got down from the roof and back into the
van. James drove back around to the store. Ralph Jr. paid
him for what was intact from the last box, which contained
canned food. Several of the cans got blown apart by
bullets when James drove away from the store. There were
only three cans left and Ralph Jr. paid six bucks for it.
“You comin’ back anytime soon?” Ralph Jr. asked as he
came around the back of the van with the last box.
“Maybe...in a few weeks. Don’t count on it though.”
“Just drop something off for the God’s Children.
That’ll make ‘em relax,” Ralph Jr. said.
James shook his head and pulled away.
Ralph turned around and saw Nang and his wife out in
front of the store, shotguns held at chest height. The
door was closed behind them. The streets empty. He smiled
at his wife and she immediately smiled back. Her
excitement to see him carefully concealed beneath her face.
She had to be on watch for any suspicious people. They
were especially vulnerable to another attack by the God’s
Children.
He looked at Nang, his forehead sweaty. Nang stared
back, his breathing labored. Scared determination in his
eyes. Something he’d never seen before. Especially not
today. He didn’t like it at all.
Then Nang shoved the butt of his shotgun into his
wife’s chin. Knocking her to the ground. Then he raised
the weapon and aimed at Ralph’s chest.
“Wait...Nang...”
Nang held the gun there for a couple seconds then
pulled the trigger. It felt like a superhuman kick to the

chest. He was on his back before he knew what happened,
beans and canned meat splattered all over his chest along
with blood.
He looked down at his chest in shock, his eyes wide.
He didn’t feel any pain yet as he watched his shirt get
soaked in blood. He felt light-headed and he couldn’t
move. He gasped for some of the air that had been knocked
out of him by the force of the gunshot.
He looked back up and saw Nang standing over him,
shotgun held at his side, a disturbed look on his face.
Why?, Ralph Jr. thought over and over again. He tried to
speak the word. His mouth moved but no sound came out the
first few tries. Finally, he said, “Why?”
“Cause I can’t live like this. The God’s Children
have a way out.”
Must be an initiation, Ralph thought.
Nang turned around and fired back at the door to the
store. Then he ran off. Ralph rolled his head to the side
and saw Nang running toward a group of people. He saw a
God’s Children tattoo on one of their foreheads.
He heard the door open and his father wheel out. He
didn’t have the strength to look up. He didn’t know if he
wanted to. He should’ve seen this coming. He should’ve

known why Nang was acting strange. He could only go so
long being treated like an outsider among their family.
“Son?”
Ralph wanted to say something like, “Goodbye,” or “I
love you,” but he didn’t have any wind or strength to get
it out. He also saw the group of God’s Children Nang had
ran to coming back. They were obviously going to finish
what they had started earlier.
About a half hour later, Harold Furlong pulled up in
front of the flea market in a two-door sedan. Like just
about everyone else in New Ritchie he’d heard the gunfight.
If he had a police force he would have gone and tried to
stop it. But he didn’t want to rush into a situation in
which he was outnumbered and outgunned.
He shut off the engine and got out, looking up and
down the street for any suspicious people. There were a
few scavengers out but most smart people were inside. They
were extra cautious about the God’s Children because of the
gunfight.
He tensed up a little when he saw that most of the
glass had been knocked out of the front door. He couldn’t

see through it too well because of the bars but he guessed
that it was only worse inside because the door was open.
Ralph Connors didn’t seem like a person who was dumb enough
to leave his door open after a gunfight.
Harold drew his Beretta and creeped toward the door.
He saw someone lying on the ground drenched in blood and a
few people around the body. Harold swallowed and slowly
opened the door.
Connors’ wife whirled around, startled, pointing her
shotgun up at Furlong. He raised his hands.
“Whaddyou want?” she asked, tear tracks down her
cheeks.
Furlong looked past her at Ralph Connors’ corpse. He
was propped up against the end cap of the aisle. His head
slumped over.
“I wanted to see if everything was OK after the
gunfight earlier.” He looked at the dead man’s father.
His quiet confidence was gone. He had a relaxed look on
his face borne of exhaustion, physical, mental, and
emotional.
Furlong holstered his gun, lowering his hands. Jodie
lowered the gun. “Well, he can’t help you anymore.”
Furlong looked around the store. Shelves were strewn
about the aisles. There were no goods on the shelves. He

didn’t see the other man who had been in the store when he
talked to Ralph before. There was a huge pool of blood in
a big circle around Jodie, her kids, Ralph Sr. and his son.
Jodie had blood on her shirt, on her hands, and her
forearms. Blood from Ralph Jr.’s mouth and chin was
starting to dry.
His daughter’s head was resting in her mother’s lap.
She sobbed gently. His son just sat there, staring at his
father’s face. Not really knowing what was going on.
“I’m...sorry.”
Ralph Sr. looked at him and inclined his head, as if
to say “thank you.”
There was silence for almost a minute, as Harold
mustered the courage to ask them what happened. Harold
cleared his throat. “How...I mean, who did this?”
Ralph Sr. said, “His brother.”
“Did he destroy the store?”
“God’s Children,” Jodie said as she stared at her dead
husband and petted her daughter’s head.
“Was he working with them?”
No one responded.
“They’re the first priority when I get a police force
together. We can’t have any law and order with them being
emboldened.”
“Don’t talk about that now. Please,” Ralph Sr.
muttered.
But Harold pressed on. “Some of my informants told me
they were getting bigger ideas. More than just robbing
people and spouting off their ideology. I didn’t know what
to make of it.”
“They even started to threaten city hall. They
actually see us as some kind of a threat. Maybe that’s a
good thing.”
Jodie turned her head to look at Harold. “Did they
see you come in here? Maybe we should be blaming you.
Maybe you brought this on us.”
“Jodie,” Ralph Sr. tried to stop her.
“No,” she shook her head. “Did you know about this?
Did your informants know they were coming after us like
this? We’re the biggest business in town. You must’ve
heard something.”
Harold looked away, frowning. “I...not, really. We
heard some things but I thought you could handle
yourselves. And I didn’t think your husband would accept
any help from me.
“You have to understand. We didn’t think they were
capable of this. They just seemed like a cult. We--“

Jodie interrupted. “--And you wanted my husband to
work with you and whatever other morons are down at city
hall? Get out. Now!”
“Look, Mrs. Connors, I’m sorry if I--“
“-Get out!”
He looked to Ralph Sr. for help but he just stared
back, his face immovable.
“Alright, alright. I’m sorry for intruding at a time
like this. I’m truly sorry for your loss.”
Harold walked back outside, shutting the door behind
him. He walked to his car and looked up and down the
street. Wind blew trash across the street. The fear
permeating every building, and every nook and cranny of the
city was palpable.
He pondered what kind of city New Ritchie was.
Brother turned against brother. Gangs ran free. Tearing
apart families on a whim. Hurting people who were just
trying to have some semblance of normalcy. People were so
scared they didn’t want to fix the problems. They had
almost forgotten how scared they were and gotten
comfortable in their lives.
Saving the city was less about guns and police and
more about inspiring hope. People had more and more
reasons to lose hope every day. For the first time, Harold
actually doubted he could bring law and order to the
streets. The weight of his father’s accomplishments felt
like it increased that afternoon.

Last Chance To Make Rent

Uploaded by

Document Information

Original Title

Copyright

Available Formats

Share this document

Share or Embed Document

Sharing Options

Did you find this document useful?

Is this content inappropriate?

Copyright:

Available Formats

Last Chance To Make Rent

Uploaded by

Copyright:

Available Formats

Clark Palmer about 12,000 words

Last Chance to Make Rent

Ralph was on his feet and at the stockroom door just

seconds after the metal-on-metal banging reached his ears.

It was the all-too-familiar sound of someone or more than

one person trying to break into his store. He cocked his

Remington shotgun and slung a bandolier over his body.

“Be careful,” Ralph Sr. said soberly as he rolled up

behind him in his power chair, sawed-off shotgun in his lap.

Ralph spoke calmly yet sternly, “If I yell

lockdown...don’t hesitate.” Lockdown was code for locking

the stockroom when Ralph or one of the other adults was in

Bang! Bang! Ralph glanced at the back of the stockroom

at his sleeping wife and two children. He took a deep

stomach only got worse.

It could have easily been kids or run-of-the-mill

vagrants doing a little vandalism or trying to break in and

steal a few things. It could also be God’s Children, who

were getting increasingly strategic and dangerous.

New Ritchie. He had no time for assumptions that day: his

family wouldn’t make rent tomorrow if he got killed.

Ralph nodded at his father, who quickly pulled the

door open, shielding himself behind it. Ralph looked left

and right, his shotgun following his gaze.

He strode into the back of his family’s flea market,

which had been a chain pharmacy/convenience store before

the Virus Wars. He lowered himself into a crouch and

hustled down the aisle in front of him, looking for

intruders through the holes behind the empty shelves. It

didn’t look or sound like anyone had actually broken into

his store but he’d learned to trust his instincts a long

“Dad, get Nang up and cover me,” Ralph said, hoping he

outside wouldn’t hear him.

“Already did. We’re ready,” Ralph Sr. said. Ralph

store, followed by the low whirring of the electric motor

on his father’s chair. Ralph Jr. saw the top of his

adopted brother’s head a couple aisles over. His father

stopped a few feet in front of the door to the stockroom.

Ralph Jr. peered around the end of the aisle at the

store entrance. Two teenagers in tattered clothing were

banging on the door with metal sticks. Ralph Jr. looked

closer and saw that one of the sticks was an aluminum

middle on their foreheads gave them away as God’s Children.

Years ago Ralph had welded metal pipes to the outside

of the door to help prevent people from breaking the

double-pane glass. The teenagers’ attempts to get in were

obviously pointless. But that wasn’t what they were trying

“Be ready,” Ralph Jr. called over his shoulder.

“Somethin’ else is goin’ on.” He heard his dad roll down

The teens banged on the door simultaneously. For all

of their talk about rebuilding the world according to their

philosophies, God’s Children were basically a ragtag group

of religious nuts. Most of them. But there was definitely

a strategy behind their actions. Not knowing what it was

made him very uncomfortable.

When Ralph saw the door hinges rattle around violently

he quickly stood and strode to the door, aiming his

Remington at one of the teenagers. The other one was about

to hit the wall to the left of the door, with something

that looked like it used to be part of a car, when he saw

Ralph approaching. Ralph returned the young man’s nervous

stare with a steely-eyed, unblinking gaze. The teen

door. They both started backing up slowly.