Authors: David Berardelli
My heart thrashed wildly as Reed and I climbed back into the van. Nausea had
caused a heavy throbbing in my gut, and my fists went numb as I gripped the
wheel. I was surprised I hadn’t lost control.
By the time we had gotten back on the Interstate, my pulse rate slowed and
the gut throbbing eased up. Feeling returned to my hands, and a warm tingling
raced up my arms.
“That was quick thinking, Reed,” I said, my voice sounding weak and
unsteady.
“I can’t ... take the credit for that,” he said, sitting forward, his face in his
hands. Something was obviously troubling him.
“It was your voice I heard on the speaker.”
He didn’t reply.
“What happened in there?”
“I was at the urinal when ... when he told me to hurry up and look out front.
As soon as I did, I saw the one with crowbar moving toward you.”
“Then you switched on the PA system.”
“It wasn’t that simple.”
“However you did it, you saved our bacon.”
“I ... I didn’t know what to do. I was in a panic. I wanted to rush outside and
startle them, but he told me that would be very stupid, and might get us both
killed. He suggested I stay inside and switch on the speaker system instead. Even
so, I almost screwed up. I’m a klutz—I admit it. I can’t remember the number of
times I wanted to call a plumber, electrician, or handyman, when my wife Alice
stepped in to fix the emergency with the simple twist of a screwdriver. No, that
announcement thing was a fluke. I ran over to the cash register and fumbled
around blindly. For one horrible moment, I couldn’t even remember what I was
looking for. When I finally remembered, I couldn’t find the right button. He ...
told me which one to press.”
I didn’t want to argue with him. I’d probably be dead if his friend hadn’t
intervened.
“He always comes through, doesn’t he?” Reed said.
“He always seems to know what’s about to happen.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
“Problem?”
“He says you have a problem with him.”
“He knows too much.”
“Look how it helps us in the end. How it saves our lives.”
“It’s not normal.”
“If things were normal, the jerk with the crowbar would’ve killed you.”
“If things were normal, none of this would’ve happened in the first place.”
We both grew silent.
I began thinking how things once were. Not long ago, I could stop for gas
without worrying about being killed at the pumps. I couldn’t possibly walk into
someone’s home and take what I wanted. I couldn’t even walk onto someone
else’s property without some consequences.
In those days, people were everywhere. They clogged the roads and the
streets, the shopping malls and the flea markets. The cities. The suburbs. The
country. They made a mess wherever they went, leaving garbage and trouble in
their wake.
To be alone, you had to find a large parcel of ground the developers hadn’t
yet grabbed and leveled. But even then, you knew you wouldn’t really be alone.
Planes would fly overhead. Dogs would bark. Gunshots from hunters would echo
for miles, warning you of violence and death. Distant traffic sounds would
provide constant reminders how close civilization actually was.
People had turned peace and quiet into a thing of the past.
So why did I long for those days?
Reed said, “We’ve turned society into a wasteland. With our innovations, our
high-tech toys, firearms, and weapons of mass destruction, we’ve made ourselves
extinct.”
“We always knew we could do it. We even invented the necessary technology
to speed up the process.”
“Each generation has given us highly intelligent people in all fields. Why has
it always been so difficult to listen to them?”
“We’ve been living in a mentally defective society all our lives. The average
teenager couldn’t tell you the name of our vice president, but they could easily
give you their favorite music diva’s cup size.”
A maroon van with dark-tinted windows registered in my side mirror. It was
coming up fast.
I tensed in my seat. My hands clutched the wheel more tightly.
“Something wrong?” Reed asked.
I pried my right hand from the wheel, reached beneath my seat, found Luke’s
long-barreled .357, and laid it on the console. “Someone wants to make nice with
our rear bumper.”
Reed gazed out the rear window. “My God.” He spun back around. His face
had turned pale. “He’s coming up really fast. What are we going to do?”
“I don’t think we can outrun him. Even if we could, I don’t want to waste the
gas.”
I pulled my foot off the gas pedal. The vehicle behind us slammed on its
brakes to avoid ramming us.
My gaze stayed on the large object in my side mirror as I let the speedometer
drop to sixty ... then fifty ... then forty.
“What ... are you doing?”
“Pulling over.”
“Why?”
“To see what they want.” My pulse hammered loudly as I eased onto the
shoulder.
The maroon van pulled over behind us. I coasted to a stop and put the
gearshift in park. Then I found a small revolver and handed it to Reed.
He gawked at it, shivering. “I can’t ... I’ve never…”
“It’s a revolver.” I thought it would be easier for him to operate. It was also
much smaller and less cumbersome than the .357. And the lighter kick wouldn’t
scare him as much. “Just aim and squeeze the trigger.”
He blinked. “The trigger?”
“Hold it like this, with both hands. If I’m dead, this’ll be your only chance.
Got it?”
“I ... think so.” He took it and nearly dropped it.
The other van crawled up to us, stopping about twenty feet from our rear
bumper. My flesh grew cold and wet.
“Now what?” Reed held the gun out and away from him—as if it were a
poisonous snake.
“We wait.”
“For what?”
“For him to make the first move.” I kept my gaze on the side mirror. Lucky
for us, our visitor had parked far enough away to give me a good view of both
sides of his van. I could spot any movement on the far side by checking the other
side mirror. Sneaking up on us would be impossible.
My blood rushed hotly through my veins. I squirmed in my seat and wiped
my wet palms on my jeans. It had been a long time since I’d been forced to wait
for something potentially bad to happen. As a former sniper for the Border Patrol,
my job was to lie in a sandy ditch for an eight-hour stretch. My rifle, knife, and
canteen were my only companions, as I waited for the enemy to show among the
cacti and wild brush peppering the desert.
Now, after nearly two decades out of the military, I once again found myself
waiting for the enemy. This time, the enemy didn’t come from another country
but from my homeland—the place where I was born and raised, where my
parents and their parents were born and raised. Someone just like me could be
sitting in that van, just as frightened of me as I was of him.
I had no idea what I now faced. I couldn’t see the driver. Both windshield
visors were lowered. The sunbeams bouncing off the glass hurt my eyes. The
driver could be waiting for me to get out of the van. He might have crept up to
me because he wanted to talk to someone else whose brain still functioned.
He could also be cradling a gun, just as I was, and was waiting to kill
whoever stepped out of this van. Maybe he was a potential serial killer taking
advantage of the chaos by quenching his blood-lust without fear of prosecution.
“No one’s getting out,” Reed whispered.
“I noticed.” Once again I wiped my palms and suddenly caught my reflection
in the rearview. My face was sweating as well, but I hadn’t noticed. I wiped my
glistening forehead while keeping a close watch on the mirrors.
Finally the driver’s door swayed open.
My body trembled, but my fingers automatically closed around the large
plastic grips of the .357. I expected to see the huge gaping hole of a shotgun
barrel resting on the door hinge. Or the long, thick barrel of a sniper’s rifle. Or an
automatic.
Instead, an open-toed white sandal lowered to the pavement. A long, shapely
leg followed as a tall female with long blonde hair appeared from behind the
driver’s door.
“Damn,” Reed said, fidgeting in his seat. “Do you ... do you see that?”
“I’d have to be blind not to.”
A babe. Son of a bitch. That’s all we need
.
A couple of guys with machineguns would have been much easier to deal
with. At least we’d know for sure what sort of trouble we faced.
She wore a tight red tank top, light-blue shorts, and those open-toed white
sandals. The top showed off her bare midriff as well as the glistening silver stud
piercing her navel. Her breasts were perfect. A silver necklace hung around her
tanned neck. She wore silver bracelets and several rings and silver studs on her
left earlobe. Large-framed black sunglasses covered her eyes and cheekbones,
hiding much of her face.
In different times, I wouldn’t be able to resist this woman. But now, instead of
wondering how she looked naked, I wondered where she was hiding her gun.
“What are we gonna do?” Reed whispered.
“Any suggestions?”
Reed shook his head. “Moss, I never ... I’ve never been able to ... women who
look like that. I’ve never had any luck ... dealing with them.”
“Neither have I.” I’d always found gorgeous, statuesque females cold,
arrogant, demanding, and selfish. This wouldn’t play out any differently. I didn’t
want to confront her, but I had no choice. She’d gotten out of her van and
obviously wanted to talk. I was going to have to do likewise.
Before stepping out, I swapped the heavy .357 with the tiny .22 Beretta I’d
taken from the looters in Cocoa. I took it off safety and shoved it in my front
pants pocket. Before opening the door, I glanced at Reed. He was staring at me,
the revolver gripped in his trembling hands, its barrel pointed in my direction. I
gently pushed it down so it pointed to the floor.
“If she kills me and comes at you, point that and empty it. It holds six. Use
’em all. Keep firing until the gun’s empty, all right?”
Reed swallowed. “There are t-two others w-with her. Both females.”
My spine grew cold. “You sure?”
He nodded.
Lovely.
I felt as if my gut had been jabbed with a hot poker. I pulled the
Beretta out of my pocket, switched it back on safety, and shoved it under the seat.
I selected the larger .9 millimeter with a twelve-clip. I took it off safety, cocked
the hammer, and slid it very carefully down my back, over my shirt, so I’d have
no trouble getting it out. Before climbing out of the van, I laid the .357 on the
driver’s seat, butt facing me.
My nerves twitched as the bottoms of my feet connected with the macadam,
but I forced myself to stay in control. I took two steps and stopped, making sure I
was close to the open door. If I needed cover, I could duck behind it and circle the
front of the van. It wouldn’t stop a bullet, but it would minimize the impact
before it hit me.
My training told me to expect the worst. I glanced to my left and made a
quick mental note of my escape route. I planned on the other two females to use
the blonde as a distraction. Like me, she was standing about a foot from the edge
of her opened door. One of her companions could be lying across the driver’s
seat, holding out a gun for her.
I sincerely hoped this wouldn’t play out badly. I didn’t want to kill anyone
else—especially a woman.
“What’s the problem?” I asked.
She smiled. “No foreplay?”
“Foreplay?”
“How about hi, neighbor? What’s going on? How’s every little thing?”
“Hi, neighbor. Now ... what’s your problem?”
She laughed. “Do I look like I have a problem?”
“I sure do.”
“Tell me about it, baby.”
“You scared the shit out of me then tried to run me down. That would be a
problem, wouldn’t you say?”
A gust of wind pushed thick golden strands across her face. She reached up
and flicked them over her shoulder. A strong whiff of something sweet drifted
over. She’d probably slathered on the perfume just before getting out of the van.
“I didn’t mean to scare you, baby. It’s been a while since I’ve met up with
someone who isn’t wandering around like a fucking zombie.”
I kept watching the driver’s door.
“I’m Carla.”
She looked more like a Bambi. Or Ursula.
“You got a name?”
“Moss.”
“Is that your first name?”
“I go by Moss.”
She nodded, and more hair rubbed her cheek. “Okay, Moss, how’s about we
get better acquainted?”
“Why?”
“Not too many of us walking around these days. We’ve gotta stick together.”
“I prefer sticking to myself. It’s less complicated.”
She brought up both hands and pushed more stray hair away from her face.
Another cloud of sweetness wafted my way. In different circumstances, I’d have
been a goner.
“You’re tough, Moss.”
“I have to be.”
“Even with someone who wants to be friendly?”
“Especially with one of them.”
“I’m a hot lady, Moss. I like my fun. Not much of it these days, so I’ve gotta
take it where I can find it. I can make you feel really good.”
You’re really playing hardball, baby
.
“I’ll bet you can.”
“I’ve got half a case of some pretty good Scotch in my back seat. C’mon over
and we’ll have a little party.”
“Thanks, but I’ve got to be going. How about a rain check?”
“What’s wrong? You don’t like women?”
“Love ’em. Dream about ’em. I’ve been obsessed with them since I was a
kid.”
“What don’t you like about me?”
“For one thing, you tried to run me down.”
“I do crazy things when I’m lonely and frustrated.”
“I don’t know many women who don’t.”
“You know what they say, don’tcha?”
“What who says?”
“People.”
“What do they say?”
“The crazier the chick, the wilder the ride.”
“I’ve heard that one a few times.”
“You’d better believe it, too.”
“You’re one delicious-looking babe. I just don’t have the time now.”
“Why not make time? A little Scotch and some of that sweet coke I picked up
a few days ago? We could be making sudsy memories in my back seat.”
Her right arm raised a couple of inches, and brought her hand closer to her
door. I placed my right hand on my hip, which brought it within six inches of the
automatic.
“C’mon, Moss. I don’t know about you, but I’m really horny. Haven’t had
any in weeks. You’re hot looking and probably just as horny as me, so let’s get it
on and…”
“No, thanks.”
I could see her scowling behind her sunglasses.
“What the hell’s wrong? Got something against a little nookie? When was the
last time you had any?”
“Can’t remember. Weeks. Months. Doesn’t matter any more.”
“C’mon over, then. We’ll climb in back and see how much Scotch we can
kill. And how much coke we can snort. I just picked up this van. It’s new and the
shocks are a little stiff. Let’s see what we can do about breakin’ ’em in.”
She raised her arm a couple of more inches. Her palm slowly turned upward.