“So you became militia?”
“Once you’ve been in that kind of situation, you don’t come back normal. I still wanted that lifestyle, and the militia was the only way to get it.”
“That how you met Mother?”
“I’d known your mother before. See, Lynn, even before the Shortage there weren’t a lot of people around here. To you, it would seem like a lot, but as far as the rest of the world was concerned we were as rural as it got. Your mom’s family, they’d lived here a long time—in this house even—and mine had been around this area for a while too.”
“Was she family to you?”
Stebbs looked at her sideways. “You don’t know much about her, do you?”
“She didn’t talk about herself.”
“Well, that’s not surprising, considering.”
“Considering what?”
“Well, your mom—her family—they did okay. They wasn’t rich, but they had enough to get by and then some, which was doing pretty good around here, especially during them times, after the Second War for Oil. Nobody had any money, and there wasn’t jobs anywhere either. Our militia started filling out.”
“Why’s that?”
“Lots of people were unhappy. They was mad at the government about the war, and about the fact that there was no money and no jobs. People always gotta have someone to blame, you see? People without jobs got nothing to do, and they feel like they’re not doing anything for their families. Some of them thought the only thing they could do was learn how to protect them, keep them safe. Crime was up; everyone was desperate. People started breaking into houses and cars for money, sometimes even just for food.
“Your mom’s family though, they didn’t have to worry about money too much, even in the bad times. They was good people, nice enough to give to others, and maybe their good will was part of what kept them safe from the robberies. But Lauren—that’s your mom’s name, you know—she was always a little skeptical about people, even then, and she came to me to learn about how to use a gun.”
“How old was she?”
“Oh, she was a bit older than you. Out of college, and all.”
“She was older than I am and didn’t know how to shoot a gun?”
“It was a different time, kiddo. Feels like a different place, even.” Stebbs took another drink of coffee, looking down into the depths for a moment. “Anyway, she started coming around, careful like, ’cause she knew her family wouldn’t care for it if she was hanging out with us roughnecks. That’s how she met your daddy.
“He wasn’t quite right, like I said. A few of the guys would rather walk through the mud to steer clear of him than pass close by. He was always looking for a fight and knew how to start one even if there was no reason. But he was a charmer too, and better-looking than what the women around here was used to seeing. He got around a bit, I can tell you that.”
Lynn blushed at the reference and moved to cleaning the bolt she’d removed from the rifle, keeping her eyes down.
“In any case he and your mom was meant for each other like sparks and gunpowder. She was always treating him like the miscreant he was, something the others lacked the balls to do, and he behaved even worse in front of her just to get her attention. I do think they cared about each other on some level, but neither one of them would ever admit it to the other. Even once they was together, they tried to act like they weren’t, like making that choice was a discredit to them both. And maybe it was.
“Her family, they weren’t too fond of her decision either, being as your daddy had a reputation of being cracked in the head. She was still living at home and they did try to stop her from seeing him, but shortly after that her parents—your grandparents—was killed in a car accident. Your aunt had already gotten married and moved out over the way with her husband, so Lauren got the house and it wasn’t too long before he was shacking up with her, which didn’t go over too well with a lot of people. Your mother was supposed to be a civilized kind, what with her college degree. But your daddy . . . he just wasn’t.”
“What was wrong with him, specifically?” Lynn asked, now knowing if she wanted the answer.
“Nothing you could put your finger on, exactly. He was the kind of crazy that hid itself well, ’cept in the eyes. That’s where you can always see it, if you know how to look.”
“What’d he do that was so crazy?”