Roads Less Traveled | Book 5 | End of the Road

by Dulaney, C.

“I told you this was a stupid idea,” Adams said. Mort smacked his arm. Adams made a face, then limped to a stop a safe distance from Brad. “Seriously, dude. Why didn’t you listen to me?” He jabbed a finger toward the community. “Because that? That was some grade-A fucked up shit. And now what?” He tucked the shotgun underneath one arm, grimacing as he did so, and ticked things off his fingers. “We don’t have clothes. We don’t have weapons.” His voice grew louder and louder with each item he ticked off the list. “We don’t have food. We don’t have our horses. I told you! What part of ‘yes, the people in there are bad dudes’ didn’t you fucking understand!” His voice had, again, jumped two octaves.

  “You did say they wouldn’t kill us,” Mort quietly added.

  Adams threw his hands in the air and almost dropped the shotgun. “Goddamnit,” he groaned. He held his ribs and took several breaths before continuing. “Whatever, man. We still lost all our shit and got our asses beat!”

  “Eight Ball,” Brad said.

  “What?”

  Brad patted the air with one hand. “Drop it down a notch. Dogs are the only thing that can hear you right now.”

  Adams just shook his head and said nothing.

  Brad held his hands out to his sides. “I know, okay? What’d you expect me to do? Isn’t that why we deserted? Why we got the hell out? To help people?”

  “You’re a fucking idiot,” Adams finally said. “Fuck helping on the chance there might be someone who needs it, or even wants it. If you keep that up, you’re gonna get us all killed.” He poked his temple with his finger a little harder than he needed to. “I don’t have this goddamn curse for shits and giggles, you know! So start using it!”

  “It didn’t help us the night the Fort was attacked!” Brad shot back. He stepped closer to Adams. “It didn’t let us know that Phoenix was about to screw with the gabs and set them loose on the living!” Brad’s voice dropped to near a whisper. “You don’t know everything.”

  That sent Adams into damn-near hysterics. “I don’t know? Are you shitting me? I don’t know? I can’t know if I’m not asked! Unless you want me to explode my goddamn head!” He dropped the shotgun and got in Brad’s face. “Why don’t you fucking ask me then! See how much I don’t know!”

  “Alright, boys,” Mort said. He forced himself between the pair and shoved them apart. “Keep it down. Can’t do anything about it now, and our trip just got much longer.”

  “And you!” Adams continued, jabbing a finger at Brad. “Just what the hell have you been dreaming about, huh? Your goddamn dreams sure as fuck didn’t warn us about the Fort, either, did they!” Adams shook his head until Brad feared it might fall off. He bent down and picked up the shotgun. “I don’t know Kasey, but she’s gone up in my estimation just for dumping your stupid ass.”

  “At least we agree on that much,” Brad said.

  Chapter Twelve

  The next day, Jonah led them downstairs. The courthouse had been cleared out since the night before, but he wasn’t entirely sure the gabs had left the town, so it was safer if they all stuck as closely together as possible. Kasey carried Gus, who stayed mercifully quiet, and Jake and Michael followed, glued to her like Siamese twins.

  The double-doors in the lobby were completely busted in. Glass all over the floor. The flagpole snapped in two. Muddy, or bloody, footprints peppered the tiled floor.

  Jonah held up a hand and went over to the doorway. His sharp eyes took everything in within seconds, and once he was certain there was no movement anywhere on the street, he gestured with his upraised hand and they followed him outside. Down the stone steps, across the street, and when they hit the sidewalk, they turned right and speed-walked to what was left of Marlo’s. Kasey, Jake, and Michael formed up a tight semi-circle around Jonah, their heads on a swivel and eyes darting about.

  They all pretended not to see what was left of Caleb lying in the middle of the road.

  When they got to Marlo’s, Jonah popped his head in the door, then ducked back out and turned to the others.

  “Stay here. Be quiet. Don’t move.”

  Michael opened his mouth to argue, but before he could, Jonah disappeared inside.

  Kasey’s eyes kept straying to her dad’s body, down the road in front of the courthouse. “I want to go home,” she whispered.

  Jake rubbed her arm and scanned the area around them. “I know. We’re gonna. Soon, just hang on.”

  Kasey’s breath caught in her throat.

  “Hang on,” Jake whispered again. “Don’t look, okay?”

  The door opened and Jonah came out with the satellite phone in his hand. He stuffed it into his back pocket, curled an arm around Kasey’s shoulders as he passed her, and pulled her with him down the sidewalk. The other two fell in behind, pistols drawn.

  Half a block down and still nothing.

  “Where are they?” Jake spoke up.

  “Gone,” Jonah said. He strode ahead, holding tight to Kasey. He didn’t bother stopping at every alley to check if it was clear; the town was empty. The terminators had moved on.

  “How the hell do ya know?” Jake kept on. Michael tried to hush him, but the only one who could ever do that was Mia, and she was gone.

  Jonah’s eyes swept back and forth ahead of them. No yellow glow, no tell-tale impressions. Nothing to indicate recent activity. “I just do. Now shut the hell up.”

  Jake wound himself up for a burst of swearing, but Jonah cut to the side and stalked across the road. Jake threw his hands up and Michael shoved him ahead.

  “Just go.”

  “Fine, fine.”

  Down the sidewalk another block, stepping over bodies, and parts of bodies, organs, hair, and blood, past the mechanic’s garage, and they came to the building the townsfolk kept the horses.

  Jonah took them into the alley between buildings. There was a side door here that most people used, instead of opening the large door in the front. Several of the nearest horses spooked when he opened the door. They piled in quietly and, once the door was shut and locked, breathed a little easier and the tension left their shoulders.

  “Alright,” Michael said. “Pick a couple horses each and saddle them. We take as many as we can with us. Let the others loose so they won’t starve in here.” He grabbed a saddle blanket and went up to the closest horse. “Easy, easy. C’mon now.” He threw the blanket up onto the horse’s back and it quieted down.

  Kasey followed his lead. She set Gus down on the ground, told him to stay, and forced all thoughts of her dad out of her head.

  Have to keep moving. Just keep moving.

  She eased up to the horse next to Michael’s. It had settled down a bit since the one beside it had, so she went about doing what she’d done a thousand times. She saddled it, bridled it, found saddle bags and strapped them on. The only weapons she had on her were a knife and her pistol, so no rifle to sling to the saddle. She looked back at Gus. He sat still as a mouse and stared at her. For the next several minutes, the only sounds in the garage were leather creaking and horses shuffling around.

  “Kasey,” Jonah whispered.

  She looked over. His horses were ready. Jake worked quietly next to him, just finishing with the saddle bags. Michael hurried around to the other stalls and opened all the doors.

  Jonah tipped his head toward the backdoor and carefully walked his horses over to it. Kasey grabbed Gus and led her horses behind Jonah. He glanced out the door’s window, scanning over the field behind the building. It was a few acres of nothing, and on the other side of that was the road leading out of town.

  No terminators in sight.

  He turned the knob and eased the door open. He glanced back to make sure the others were right behind. Michael and Jake watched him, ready to move with him, but Kasey stared at the floor. He snapped his fingers and her eyes darted to him. He held two fingers to his, then to hers, then back.

  Watch me.

  She nodded.

  Jonah led them outside. Each had their own mount an
d held the reins of another. All told, they quietly and awkwardly led eight horses out of that garage. The few that remained inside were loose and would eventually meander their way outside and into the field.

  Jonah climbed into the saddle and waited for the others to do the same. Kasey tucked Gus in between her and the saddle horn, then took up her reins. Once they were all ready, Jonah kicked his horse into a slow gallop.

  Here I am, runnin’ again, he thought.

  Kasey followed, trailed by Jake, and then Michael. Everything in her screamed to go back, or to ride faster. Instead she kept her eyes on Jonah’s back as he led them away from town.

  ✽✽✽

  “Ouch.” Kasey jerked away and peered over her shoulder. “Watch what the hell you’re doing.”

  “Stop squirmin’ and it won’t hurt so much.” Jake dabbed a little more alcohol across the stab wound on Kasey’s back.

  She sat on the couch in Michael’s cabin, with the back of her shirt pulled up to her shoulders, hunched over to keep the front of her shirt from rolling up. Jake worked at cleaning fresh blood from around the stitches, which she’d pulled a little during the clusterfuck back in Gibson.

  Michael spoke quietly on the satellite phone with someone in Blueville. Kasey strained to hear what he said, but he muttered so low she couldn’t make out anything. Jonah busied himself with going window to window, covering them with blankets or anything heavier than a curtain. Gus was sprawled out on the floor, chewing on one of her dad’s old slippers.

  She heard tape rip, then felt something soft and a bit scratchy press against her back. Jake finished taping the new bandage on, then smacked her bare back. She flinched again but grit her teeth and bore it.

  “Thanks.”

  Jake leaned forward and smiled at her. “Welcome. Next time, you’ll probably tear ‘em right out. Just a head’s up.”

  Jaws still clenched, she nodded. “Yep. Got it.” Kasey pulled her shirt down and stood. She rolled her shoulders and tested her range of motion. Satisfied, she went over and helped Jonah with the last window.

  “Alright,” Michael said. “Yeah.” A pause. “Right, I understand.” He rubbed his forehead. “Alright. Talk soon.” He hung up the phone, laid it on the desk, and leaned back in his chair. He took a deep breath and blew it out.

  Kasey stopped in the middle of the room, mindful of keeping her voice down, and put her hands on her hips. “Well. We staying or going?”

  Jake, leaned forward on the couch with folded hands under his chin, glanced up at her, then over to Michael. “They already know what’s goin’ on?”

  Michael nodded. “They’ve been getting reports. Well, a couple. Most people they try to raise here aren’t answering. But they’ve heard from Pennsylvania and Kentucky. Just as bad there.” He sighed again, then he leaned forward and put his face in his hands.

  After a long moment of silence, Jonah spoke up. “What about Ohio?”

  Michael snorted and raised up. “Yeah. Ohio. They heard from them. They said stand down.”

  “What?” Kasey said. Jake shot to his feet.

  Jonah threw his hands up and batted the air. “Keep it down.” He pulled the curtain back from the window he stood next to and looked outside, then he turned back to them and met them in the middle of the room. “We gotta stay quiet. I’m safe, but you’re not. Them damn things don’t hear any better than us, so if we stay quiet, I won’t have to do somethin’ heroic and get my damn self killed. Alright?”

  “Yeah,” Jake said. “Alright. We got it.”

  Kasey nodded.

  “Alright.” Jonah faced Michael. “So, the Ohio Guard post they talked to said to stand down.”

  “Yeah,” Michael said.

  “But not Pennsylvania or Kentucky.”

  Michael shook his head. “No. Not yet, at least. They’re scrambling too, trying to get people under cover. From the sounds of it, they’re having as much luck with that as we’ve had.”

  “Man,” Jake whispered. He put his hands on top of his head. “We’re so fucked.” He turned and went into the kitchen.

  Kasey watched him leave, then said to Michael, “So the Suits who tried to get to Rabbit before he left Blueville, you think they got to the Ohio Guard?”

  “Yeah. That’s what Torrez thinks, too,” Michael said, referring to the guy he’d talked to over the phone.

  Kasey and Jonah glanced at each other.

  Michael went on to say, “I think we need to stay put. Just for a little while. Keep our heads down and ride the brunt of this out. Torrez said he sent a small team to get us, escort us back to the prison. He said there’s plenty of room.”

  “The three of us can’t stayed cooped up in here for who knows how long,” Kasey said.

  “No. But we can stand it ‘til they get here,” Jonah said. “When you go out, I go with you. I can do the runnin’, if there’s runnin’ needs doin’.”

  Jake walked back into the room. “You willin’ to keep that up forever?”

  “Long as it takes.” Jonah stared at him a moment. “I ain’t losin’ anymore.”

  Kasey looked around to Michael, then Jake, and then settled back on Jonah. “No. We’re not losing anymore.”

  Michael nodded. “No more.” His jaw set and his eyes hardened.

  “Damn right.” Jake stepped closer to them. “No more.”

  “Alright then.” Kasey turned and looked around the cabin. Her chest ached and her guts felt empty, but the hurt that had been there turned colder and colder. She glanced down. Gus stared up at her, and his ears perked up. She smiled at him.

  “Yeah,” she said, a little quieter. “No more.”

  ✽✽✽

  Brad, Mort, and Adams scavenged some clothing from a couple houses inside the community. They didn’t fit well, but close enough. Each man had a blanket rolled up, secured and slung over their backs. There wasn’t any food or water to be found, and no weapons or ammo. What vehicles that were scattered around either had empty gas tanks or wouldn’t start for whatever reason. None of the three were mechanics; that’d been one thing Jeff hadn’t taught them at the Fort.

  They left the gated community behind with the borrowed clothes on their backs, a knife, and a shotgun with four extra shells.

  And a few hard feelings between Brad and Adams.

  Before the Fort had fallen, Brad had relied heavily on Adams’ ability. Whenever Adams had been wrong about something, he’d still been right. The problem was almost always in how Brad phrased his questions. If they weren’t specific enough, or the subject the wrong thing entirely, then it wasn’t Adams’ fault for what answer he gave.

  Mort understood that and took it all in stride. He knew Adams couldn’t help the compulsion, and he also knew, from having witnessed it himself, that if Adams began asking himself more detailed questions, or leading himself, or in any way straying from simple yes-or-no things, he suffered physically for it, to the point of near death.

  Brad understood it, too, but was blaming Adams for something none of them could have foreseen, unless they’d had some reason to ask Adams about it directly. And they’d had no reason whatsoever to suspect PhoenTek was planning to kill all the normies. So, the easiest way for Brad to deal with the guilt he felt for not having seen all this coming was to take out their current situation on Adams, and whatever he’d dreamt about the night before sure as hell wasn’t helping.

  “We’ve got a long walk ahead of us, boys,” Mort spoke up.

  Adams snorted. Brad stayed silent.

  “It’ll go easier now,” Mort went on. “Sticking to the blacktop.” The fingers of his right hand fiddled around with a button on the flannel shirt he’d taken. The third button down from the top, to be exact. Mort had counted three times to be sure.

  Ahead, Brad sniffed and looked around everywhere that wasn’t in Adams’ direction.

  Mort watched the boys a few more paces, then said, “I figure about a week on foot. I’d double check, but we seem to have lost our map.” It’d bee
n in his saddle bag. Gone, like everything else. “I’m not really sure. Never been good at estimating distance like that. We were only a few days out before. But that was on horseback, so...” He eyeballed the back of Adams’ head, waiting. Then he stared at the back of Brad’s head.

  Nothing.

  A bunch of birds, startled by something, or simply tired of sitting around, flew from the top of a big tree off to their right.

  “We’ve got the shotgun,” Mort said. “A few shells. That oughta feed us for a few days. If we only eat one squirrel a day. Or a bird. Groundhog. Whatever.”

  Adams started to get twitchy up ahead. He glanced over at Brad, but quickly turned his eyes front again.

  Mort smiled. “What do you think, Brad? You laid out the route. About a week?” He knew about how long it’d take; he’d studied the areas Brad had circled on the map. But he also knew there wasn’t really any way to get the boys to talk to each other unless Brad started, and Brad wouldn’t start it unless he had a reason. Making up with a friend wasn’t a good enough reason for him. Mort had been certain for a long time that pride would get that boy killed.

  Adams sucked in a breath to answer Mort’s question but slapped a hand over his mouth to muffle it.

  About a hundred more paces down the road and Brad finally gave in. Without looking over, he asked, “Will it take a we—” He hesitated and thought about the dream he’d had.

  Instead, he asked, “Is Kasey at her farm?”

  “Yes,” Adams said. He looked over at Brad, his face wrinkled with confusion. “Oh. Right.” He glanced over his shoulder to Mort. “They ran, remember?”

  “What?” Brad asked.

  “Brad,” Mort interrupted from behind. “What’d you see to make you ask that? What did you dream?”

  Brad stared at Adams for several more steps before facing forward again. “Death. A lot of it.” He waved his hands around but didn’t turn to face Mort. “You know how it is.” He shrugged. “I saw a town get flooded and everyone drowned. It was weird.”

  “Yeah,” Adams said. “Like, a real flood? Water and shit?” Then he shook his head. “No. Not water and shit.”