“Men were chasing her? With antique rifles? God Almighty! That would explain why she’s so afraid, but why’s she shouting in German? And it still doesn’t explain where she’s from.” He shrugged. “As to hearing anything, I’ve got the generator going. It’s quieter than most, but it’s still noisy as a lawn mower. Can’t hear much over it if I’m close.” George drove on, thinking about what he was going to do when he got home. Men with antique guns running around shooting folks. A girl in a torn dress in his barn. He almost missed the turn into Jim Reardon’s place, but managed to make it without getting off of the gravel.
Elizabeth gave him a sour look, but didn’t say anything until he stopped in front of the house. “Go home, George, and lock your doors. And get out a shotgun. Just ain’t safe ’round here right now.” She hurried up the steps and was met by Jim’s wife. Once the door had closed behind them, he drove off.
George pulled into the barn and climbed out of the truck, carefully locking it behind him. It was the first time that he had ever locked his truck at home. He started to climb the ladder to the loft, but decided that he should listen to Beth and get a gun first, so he turned toward the house.
The doors were still closed and locked, and there were no broken windows. Unlocking the door, he started to put the keys back on the hook, then thought better of it and put them into his pocket instead. Then he went to his gun cabinet.
The guns were mostly sporting rifles and light shotguns, but not all of them. Nestled inconspicuously in the corner was the M-14 that Dave had been so proud of. Antiques my ass, he thought as he quickly loaded the rifle. Then he went to the barn again.
At first he couldn’t find the girl, then he heard her on the other side of the loft. Walking carefully over to her, he smiled and held his hands open out to the sides. “Young lady, you don’t need to be afraid. I’m not going to hurt you. What’s your name? I’m George. George Blanton.” He patted himself on the chest and said his name several more times, just like in the movies. The girl continued to stare at him.
“Are you hungry?” he suddenly asked, desperately trying to get some reaction out of her. He took a step forward and reached out his hand.
The girl shrank away from him, shouting, “Fass mich nicht an!” She was trying to crowd herself farther into the corner, and her eyes were so wide that he could see the whites all around.
He still didn’t understand what she was saying, but the way that she was acting made her meaning clear. She was still frightened. “Okay, I’ll just stay over here,” George replied softly, taking a step back. “Are you hungry?” he asked, pantomiming eating. The girl didn’t say anything, but she swallowed and licked her lips. George nodded and backed away.
The footlockers in the loft were all labeled, and he picked one marked READY TO EAT. In it he found vacuum packed beef jerky, crackers that might still be edible, and an assortment of Army MREs. Where Dave had gotten them, he had never asked. And after asking to try one once, he had never asked that again either. Sheesh! The things they feed to soldiers. Grabbing some jerky strips, he turned back to the girl. She was watching him intently, and he tossed two strips to her.
She picked them up and looked at them with wide eyes and a confused expression on her face. George cleared his throat to get her attention, and, when she looked up, tore one of the packages open and took a bite of the jerky. Or at least he tried. The tough meat gave his dentures a real workout.
The girl looked carefully at the package in her hand, then followed George’s example. The plastic clearly confused her, but it was when she took a bite of the meat that she finally showed some sign of life. The first piece disappeared in seconds, and the second quickly followed. And after a few moments she had the reaction that George had been waiting for. She began swallowing and trying to clear her throat. Whatever else you wanted to say about jerky, it was dry as a bone.