Excerpt: Looters

I was in the middle of a great dream about showing off my Nobel Peace Prize, my Pulitzer, and my Olympic Gold Medal to all of the kids at my high school reunion when Dad jostled me awake. When Dad wakes me up in the middle of the night, it means one of two things. Either he's drunk and needs something or he wants to go out on a looting expedition. I fluttered awake and sat up, quasi-cognizant of my surroundings. Dad was shining one of those huge police flashlights in my eyes, so it was even more a struggle to keep my eyes open.

"What's going on?" I muttered.

"Twister hit. Its only an F3 or so, but it took out Simple Springs," Dad said, practically salivating. "You know, the rich neighborhood."

"What time is it..." I mumbled.

"Three-thirty. I just heard it on the police scanner," Dad said. He picked up some pants off the floor and chucked them at me. "Put these on and get out into the truck. We need to get in and out before we're noticed."

I stumbled around the room, trying to put on my pants in the dark. I grabbed my jacket before heading out into the cold night. The truck was on, headlights beaming, and Dad was scarping away the layer of frost that had formed on the windshield already. I crawled into the passenger seat of the cab and took a deep swig of the coffee Dad had made. He jumped in the driver's seat and revved up the engine, jetting out of the park and on to the lonesome highway. He turned the radio down low, the station playing some whiny country western song.

"Why do we have to do this now?" I muttered.

"Son, Simple Springs is the jackpot. There's enough money in them battered houses to put us on easy street," Dad said.

"But you've got your job. Don't you need to be at work in the morning?" I said.

"This is some good extra income," Dad replied. "Maybe we'll get enough to get you a car or something..."

"I don't turn sixteen for six months," I reminded him.

"Look, we just need to stash some extra cash for the lean times, okay?" Dad sighed.

'What lean times? If you keep your job..." I began.

"I've got the job and I'll be in for work first thing in the morning, but I'm not passing up on good opportunity when there's unattended money lying all over the ground," Dad snorted.

The Red Cross gathered everyone at the front of the neighborhood to see that everyone was all accounted for, so Dad drove the truck down a back road and across a field to get to the back of the neighborhood. Since it was late at night, everyone was more focused on getting a place to stay the night than to pick up the remains of battered houses the tornado left behind. Dad tossed me a flashlight as we got out of the truck and set off to start looking. My flashlight wasn't lighting up right away, so I hit it a couple of times before any light came out of it. Then I set off.

Dad collects pieces of metal from pipes and things, scrap stuff he sells to the metal yard for cash. Some of it sells for chump change while other stuff can bring in a pretty hefty sum. We look for wallets, loose money, jewelry, watches, and valuables that can be pawned. My dad has a pawn dealer over in Brownfield who he sells things to, no questions asked. Dad is pretty ruthless when it comes to looting. He'll even take the change out of some kid's piggy bank. I leave things like that or things that look like they have sentimental value of some kind. We also pick up knives, switchblades, swords, small antiques and collectibles, and anything else we judge might be of value and easily lost in a storm.

I had busied myself, going from house to house, picking up stray items I thought wouldn't be missed and we could use. Dad hadn't been joking when he said this neighborhood was rich. After thirty minutes of searching, I had delivered an armful of valuables covered in diamonds, gold, and precious stones to the truck. Dad had put away tons of scrap metal in the back and had a pile of valuables twice as high as mine. The truck was starting to get a little full after an hour or so, but Dad insisted we pick through everything once more. I thought I had gotten pretty much everything when I looked down and saw I had kicked a locket with my feet in the dark.

I bent down and picked it up. It wouldn't open and I looked over it again. I had a feeling it wasn't solid gold, but gold plated. The jewel in the center was a crystal, nowhere near the brightness or clarity of a diamond. Dad had taught me to notice these things so I wouldn't bring in crap. It was pretty much worthless, a costume piece. I thought about tossing it back on the ground and returning to the truck cab. For some reason, I stuffed it down in my pocket. I wasn't going to hand it over to Dad, but I felt like I needed to keep it. I then headed back to the truck where Dad was waiting.

"All set?" Dad asked. I nodded and he sped off, just as the sun was beginning to rise.