Authors: David Berardelli
Based on our recent experience with looters, I didn’t want to get too close to a
city, so I went several more miles before getting off the Interstate. After passing
several secondary turns and two minor intersections, I kept going straight.
About a mile later, the two-lane road turned into a series of sharp bends. Half
a dozen deserted vehicles sat off the road, but we saw no traffic and passed no
one walking.
“Just a quiet, secluded place to crash. Maybe even a gas station, if we can
find one that’s still working.”
Reed sighed. “I think we should stay away from houses for a while.”
Damn. He’s still gun-shy
.
I sent him a glare in the rearview. “I don’t plan on shooting anyone if I don’t
have to.”
“I told you I understood, Moss.”
“Then what are you talking about?”
He didn’t reply.
“Is it Cocoa? Or Jacksonville?”
“It’s ... all this death. It’s ... this killing you’ve just done. Nearly everyone’s
dead and there’s still a need ... to kill.”
“The few still left are either in hiding or have become savages. We don’t have
too many options, you know.”
Reed sighed. “I just hope ... that is, I don’t want you to ... please don’t
become ... one of them.”
The fear in Reed’s voice ripped through me. But I couldn’t let myself
succumb to it. It could mean our death.
“You just told me you understood.”
“I ... understood why you did it. I just didn’t understand how ... easily you did
it.”
I didn’t respond.
“You were in the military, weren’t you?”
“How the hell did you know…?”
“I didn’t.”
I could barely see Reed’s reflection in the darkness of the van’s interior. But it
wasn’t Reed’s expression I was worried about.
“Did he get in my head? If he did, tell him to get out. I don’t want anyone in
there. Hell, I don’t even go in there unless I have to.”
“It’s really not much of a stretch, you know. I knew something was up when I
saw you handle those guns.”
“You can tell I was in the military just because I know how to handle a gun?”
“And by how you ... how easily you killed those three looters.”
“It wasn’t a question of being easy. My survival instinct came into play. It
was them or us.”
“He just said an untrained person couldn’t have killed those three so
efficiently.”
“I
was
trained for stuff like that. A long time ago.”
“I’d like to know about it. I mean, since I’m here with you and since we kind
of depend on one another.”
“It’s a long story. I’m tired.”
He obviously sensed my edginess. Growing silent, he settled back in the seat.
The road deteriorated, becoming narrower. The pavement disappeared,
turning into sand. A couple of flickering streetlamps shed a slender sheen of
yellow light on the pines straight ahead.
A large, hand-scribbled sign advertising a trailer court appeared around the
next bend. I turned onto a narrow grassy path, swerving around pine trees, junked
cars, and single-wide trailers. At the end, huddled between an RV and a travel
trailer, a small, dimly-lit building awaited us. A heavyset, gray-haired woman in a
flowery blue dress stood in front of it. In the flickering haze of the single
floodlight above the door, she appeared to be about fifty, with a round face and
puffy cheeks. Her tiny blue eyes twinkled. She said we should call her Rozzie.
“Where you two nice-lookin’ gents from?”
“Orlando,” I said.
Her face wrinkled up. “Orlando? That’s ... lemme see ... that’s in ... don’t tell
me, now … um … Florida?”
“You got it.”
She chuckled then brought her pudgy hands together and clapped. I glanced at
Reed, who frowned. When she’d first come outside to greet us, she’d moved
fairly quickly for someone her size. I assumed she hadn’t been affected. Now I
realized I’d been wrong.
“I used to know someone from down that way … what was his name?” She
rubbed her chins, trying to remember. “Ya wouldn’t know ’im, would ya?”
I shook my head and just let her ramble.
“I think he told me he lived there. At least, at one time he did. But you know
how things change, folks movin’ around all the time. He did mention Miami.
That’s in Florida, too. Think you might know ’im?”
“I don’t think so.” It was easier than asking questions and confusing her.
She nodded. “You gents wanna spend the night? Don’t think I ever saw ya
here before. Live around here?”
Her brain was obviously shutting down. So was her body. A strong urine
smell emanated from her broad form.
“You have a place where we can park the van?”
“Sure thing. My son’s twenty-seven—ain’t that somethin’?”
“Sure is.”
“He lives with me, ya know.”
“I didn’t know.”
“Luke?” She grinned broadly, displaying several missing teeth. “He’s been
livin’ with me a while, now, since his daddy had his accident. Ya like tater salad?”
“Most of the time.”
She rubbed her hands together. “Just whipped up a big batch. Be glad to bring
ya some. Ya look hungry. Yer friend, too.” She raised her brows at Reed.
“Hungry?”
“A little.”
“I can always tell when a man’s hungry.” She chuckled. Luke? Now, that boy
can eat all day long. You’d think I starve ’im, to look at ’im. Boy’s skinny as a
rail, eats like a horse and never gains an ounce. Makes ya wonder, ya know?”
“Where can we park?” She was making me nervous.
She extended a large, beefy arm and pointed. A heavy fist of BO mixed in
with the urine slapped my face and made my eyes water. “Down that path past
that last trailer. It’s vacant, but the folks might come back to pick it up. Didn’t say
where they was goin’, but I can’t letcha use it, not knowin’ when they’ll be back.
One of ’em fishes. Wife makes some tasty brownies. Like brownies?”
“It’s all right,” I said. “We can sleep in the van.”
“Just pull in between those scrubs and you’ll have yourself some privacy. I’ll
bring over some tater salad later on, when you’re settled in.”
“Get much traffic out here, this time of night?” I didn’t want any surprises
after our trouble in Cocoa.
“Used to, but lately?” She shook her head. “Don’t know what’s been
happenin’, folks not comin’ ’round like they used to. This country’s goin’ to the
dogs. Can’t even get a decent signal on my TV no more. Just bought myself a
brand-new set a month back, too. Got it from Walmart, but ya know, ya just can’t
trust any of ’em no more. Not since those Indians and the Chinese started comin’
over and buyin’ up everything. I know this fella, lives in Savannah, has this
Chinese wife. Maybe you know ’im. Cecil’s his name. Wife’s okay for a ferner.
Don’t say much, but they don’t talk too much over there. Anyway, Cecil drives a
station wagon, does handy work, really knows how to use his hands. Redid my
cabinets in the kitchen, where Luke and I live behind the office. Maybe you can
come in and see what he done. They’re real pretty now.”
Using the bright light from my battery-powered lantern, Reed made sandwiches
with some of the bread, turkey meat, cheese, mayonnaise, and dill relish we’d
taken from the house in Cocoa. I grabbed a beer from the cooler and asked if
Reed wanted one. He said he wasn’t a beer drinker, so I handed him one of the
cans of pop we’d found.
After supper, it was time to bed down. Rozzie never brought over her potato
salad, but we were both glad she hadn’t. I didn’t want to insult her by tossing it in
the bushes. She might have been great in the kitchen at one time, but judging how
fast her mind and body were deteriorating, I couldn’t trust her.
I let Reed use my sleeping bag while I delegated myself for sentry duty. I
chose the passenger seat so I wouldn’t have to worry about getting hung up on
the wheel if I had to move quickly. I inclined the seat as far down as it would go,
adding a small pillow to support my lower back. It made a fairly comfortable bed.
I’d have no trouble falling asleep.
I didn’t want to leave the windows open, but the mugginess of the night left
me no choice. I couldn’t leave the engine running all night with the AC on. We
had to conserve gas at all costs.
I sprayed my face, neck, and hands with the mosquito repellent I’d picked up
at Walmart. Before settling down, I grabbed one of the handguns from beneath
the seat and placed it on top of the console. In an emergency, I could snatch it up
quickly.
I settled into a comfortable position. I knew better than let myself relax
totally. Rozzie’s kid was out there somewhere, and I had to be wary. He could be
in the same shape as his mother. My gut told me to expect the worst.
In the military I’d learned that it is a fatal mistake to underestimate one’s
adversary. I didn’t know if Luke could be classified as an adversary, but it was
definitely something to consider. That was another thing I’d learned: always
expect the unexpected.
I scanned the heavy veil of darkness surrounding us and listened carefully as
the warm breeze whispered through the branches of the pines. In the distance, an
owl hooted, and a whippoorwill made its nocturnal territorial declaration. A dog
barked twice. Nature appeared totally unaffected by Mankind’s demise. Since
Nature had always displayed a seething contempt for Mankind, ignoring our
ultimate end came as no surprise.
Damn.
I’d hoped he’d forgotten about this. I wanted to relax, not rehash that
terrible period in my life. The present situation was bleak enough.
“I’m tired.”
“He tells me you were wounded.”
What the hell?
I sat bolt upright and twisted around. “How the hell did he…?”
“He says he can feel it.”
“If he can feel it, he must also know how I got it.”
“How would he know that?”
“He seems to know everything else.”
Reed went silent for a moment. “He says he can feel the hurt in your voice.
He also says you were wounded more than once.”
My uneasiness grew. “Why so interested?”
“We’re in this together. Don’t you think we should know a little about one
another?”
“Maybe later, after we’ve both had some sleep.”
“I was a high school teacher ... for a while.”
“A while?”
“Until I finally realized what a useless, unrewarding profession teaching
actually was. I denied it for years, but it finally kicked in. It wasn’t my idea,
though. It was decided for me.”
“What happened?”
“I’ll tell you about it … later.”
Judging by Reed’s tone, I suspected the story was not pleasant.
“So ... where were you stationed?”
I lay back in my seat and rubbed my eyes. “Brighton Beach was my first tour
of duty.”
“My God.” Reed gasped. “It must’ve been horrible.”
“I spent three months handling riot control at Little Odessa then three months
at Pakistani Brighton.”
“I read those places averaged a major riot every three days.”
“When I was there, we saw at least three skirmishes every week.”
“How’d you get picked? I mean, the National Police Force was recruiting
heavily around twenty years ago. Was that about the time you went in?”
“The NPF was going strong a couple of years before. When I went in, the
military was having major problems with Russians, Albanians, and Muslims in
the New York City area, so they sent most of us there. Since I’d already been
deployed to Pakistan for two months following Advanced Infantry Training, I had
more practical experience than most of the other guys, so they picked me and a
few others from my old unit to work with a special group of undercover cops in
Little Odessa.
“They stuck us right in the middle of that shithole to nab a white-slavery ring
responsible for sending underage girls to other countries for profit. With our help,
the Metro cops were able to rescue a large group of eight- and nine-year-olds
during the course of the sting. We were about to nail a couple of the top traders
when our operation was blown. Half a dozen cops were killed and it turned into a
really messy firefight. We were pinned down by Russians and some traffickers
brought over here from Albania. I was stabbed in the thigh, arm, and back.”
“How long were you hospitalized?”
“About a month. It was the only vacation I ever got. Riot control sucks even
in the best of conditions. Undercover work is much worse—especially when
you’re dealing with Russians. Like the Muslims, Russians are savages and have
no regard for human life. You can’t scare them and you can’t intimidate them.
They won’t cooperate and they won’t listen. We didn’t even bother trying to bring
them in. We just cuffed them and tossed them in the back of the wagon.”
“Were they deported? Or just put in prison?”
“They never made it that far.”
“What happened?”
“I really don’t think I should…”
“Moss, we’d like to know.”
“They were transported to the docks, shot twice in the head then dumped.”
Reed fell silent.
“You have to understand cops. They’re overworked, underpaid, overstressed,
and backlogged. And with the court system so messed up, the criminals beat the
cops back out onto the streets. It was beyond frustrating.”
“I know about frustration,” Reed said softly. “Teaching is frustration at its
most extreme.”
“From what I’ve heard, police work and teaching, especially in the big city
school systems, are probably more similar than most people think.”
“What you heard was absolutely…”
He suddenly stopped talking.
“Reed?” I started to turn around.
“Hi ya!”
A tall, skinny guy in his late twenties stood just a few feet from my door,
grinning stupidly. The long-barreled revolver gripped in his right hand pointed
directly at my face.
I froze. Judging by the dead silence behind me, Reed wasn’t moving, either.
My heart thundered in my ears. It had been a long time since someone had
pointed a gun at my face, and I quickly realized that twenty years had done little
to change the icy terror raking through my body.
But instead of surrendering to the panic, I felt my military experience kicking
in again.
Breathe normally. Keep your head. Avoid any sudden movements
.
I forced my gaze off the big revolver and studied the boy, taking in everything
from the hand holding the weapon to the position of the boy’s feet. It was crucial
to find signs of weakness.
The enemy’s body language will tell you all you need to know
.
Study his
position, his posture. His attitude. Anything that will betray him. A twitch.
Excessive blinking. Rapid eye movement. Sweating. Shaking. Labored or
irregular breathing. Continuous swallowing. Nervous shifting of the legs. Sudden
movement in the lip or jaw area
.
Only the blankness in the boy’s eyes registered. They were somewhat dull,
exuding the same confusion and disorientation I’d seen in Rozzie’s eyes. This
boy had those same tiny blue eyes, the same broad nose and loose features.
“You must be Luke.”
His face lit up. “Yeppers. That’s me. Luke.”
Despite my inner turmoil, it was time to bond. To share experiences. It was
the only way to talk him out of using the gun.
“Your momma said something about tater salad.”
“Yeppers,” he repeated, perking up. “Good stuff! Momma makes it up
real
good!”
Even though the gun did not waver, relief washed through me. This boy was
just as far gone as his mother. With any luck, he’d find it difficult to operate the
revolver properly. Even so, I had to proceed carefully. It was always extremely
dangerous to talk someone out of using his gun. As with the punks I’d
encountered in the Orlando supermarket, I had to confuse this boy.
“That sure is a scary-looking gun.”
“Got it from Daddy. He hunted, Daddy did. Squirrels and rabbits. Deer, too.”
“Good hunting out here?”
He nodded eagerly. “All year round. Feller said just the other day, tweren’t no
good huntin’ out here in the boonies. I showed ’im, though—showed ’im
real
good.”
I knew better than ask for details. “Is that the gun your daddy used for
hunting?”
“For deer. He used bird shot for squirrels and rabbits.”
“Would you mind if I looked at it? Just for a minute?”
“No. No-no-no!” He shook his head. “Daddy told me, said
never
give nobody
your gun. Nopers.”
“Just a quick look? I promise I’ll give it right back.”
“Nopers. Nope-nope
nope
.”
The gun twitched and I knew I had to get it out of his hand quickly. I had no
illusions of grabbing my gun from the console. It would take too long. Besides, I
didn’t want to kill the boy. He wasn’t all there and had no idea what he was
doing.
“I just thought…”
“Nope-nope-nope! Daddy told me, said ‘Luke, never give…’”
“Did your dad have it inscribed? With your name?”
He tilted his head and squinted. “S … Scribed?”
“With your name, no one can take it from you. I’ll bet your name’s there, on
the side of the barrel. Take a quick look. I’ll bet it says, ‘To Luke, From Daddy.’”
He brought the gun up to his face.
With a flick of my wrist, I reached out and swatted his hand. He smacked
himself in the nose. The gun flew and he fell backward, landing with a loud grunt
on a pile of dead leaves.
I jumped out of the van, snatched the gun from a mound of pine needles, and
held it behind my back.
He sat up sharply, looking around, trying to get his bearings. Even in the
darkness I could tell he was dazed. He reached up and touched the blood covering
his mouth, squinted at it, and squealed. He wiped his hands on his trousers, wiped
his nose, and stared at his hands again. When he noticed me, he cringed.
“You okay? You just tripped on one of those dead branches and went down
hard. You must’ve hit your nose on the ground. Does it hurt much?”
He sniffed again. “Hurts ... really hurts!”
“You need to go back home and clean yourself up. Ask your momma to help
you.”
“Momma?” He frantically rubbed his buzz cut. “Momma!” He jumped up and
spun around. “She’ll skin me alive, she sees me out here, gettin’ my duds all dirty
and messed up.”
“You’d better hurry on back. Blood stains are hard to get out, you know.”
He spun around again. Stooping over, he gawked at the ground. “Daddy’s
gun. Where’s Daddy’s gun?”
“You lost your father’s gun?”
“I thought I ... just had it ... brung it on over…”
“You didn’t have it with you. You probably left it in your room.”
“I coulda swore I…”
“I didn’t see it. Maybe your mother hid it so you wouldn’t get…”
“Momma. I gotta get back now.” Gasping loudly, he dashed into the trees,
tripped on a deadfall, jumped back up, and stumbled into the darkness.
I climbed back in the van, slammed the door, and collapsed. My pulse raced
and my limbs trembled. The gun in my hand had gone cold. It was no wonder.
My palms were covered in cold sweat. I put Luke’s gun on the dash and wiped
my palms on my jeans.
“That was impressive, Moss,” Reed said. “He even said so.”
At the moment I didn’t care what anyone thought. I hadn’t been ready for that
and found it disheartening to discover how badly it had affected me. But I was in
no mood to argue.
“Didn’t have much choice.” I picked up the gun again, clicked open the
cylinder, and checked the ammo.
“What kind is it?”
“A Smith & Wesson .357 Magnum revolver. As deadly as they come.”
“Loaded?”
“All six cylinders. This one’s a Model 686. In my opinion, one of the most
powerful guns made.”
Since I couldn’t examine the ammo in the dark, I rubbed the tip of one of the
bullets with my finger. “Lovely. Hollow points.” I slipped it back into the
cylinder, snapped it shut, shoved the gun under the seat, and lay back. “If he’d
shot me, you’d be finding skull fragments and chunks of brain matter in the
upholstery for weeks.”
Reed swallowed audibly. “Think he’ll ... come back?”
“One never knows.”
“What if ... what if he does?”
“Ask your friend to give us a little more warning next time.”
“We were talking when the boy snuck up to us, Moss. My friend said he was
distracted.”
“Is he distracted now?”
Reed sighed. “He said he’ll give us plenty of notice next time.”
It took about ten minutes for my nerves to finally settle down. Then my
breathing returned to normal. Despite Reed’s assurance, I picked up the gun from
the console and placed it in my lap. Then I closed my eyes and focused on sleep.