“I was too nerved up. I was going to wake you up soon, anyway. I’m getting tired and I’ve used two of the four fuel cans to keep this thing topped off. Figured you could decide if you wanted to push on or not.”
My brain almost skipped a gear. I’d fallen asleep and she’d let me, buckling me in and just driving. Granted, she’d had the NVGs so we could drive without lights, but that was damned dangerous and she didn’t have somebody to watch her six, and the way those cannibals had boiled out of the darkness and…
“Hey, don’t be mad. I heard on the radio, some folks talking. FEMA came through this entire corridor. They cleared the roads going north and south, and everyone that they can move has moved. There’s a big fight in Texas and this is going to be used as a north-south corridor in a month. Nobody is around here, Dick.”
“I know,” I said, having heard a lot of that myself, a day prior, “It’s just damned dangerous. What if somebody was driving up behind us? You didn’t have enough sets of eyes…”
“Dick,” she said softly, “we’ve walked, ridden bikes, driven trucks and Hummers. We’ve been attacked by dogs, cannibals, crazy religious townspeople, and the federal government. We’re still alive. We’ve kind of had a crazy time, a crazy ride, and a crazy life, lately. I figured we might as well go with what’s working.”
“The crazy?” I asked her sarcastically.
In a serious voice, she said, “Exactly. Besides, once you started dreaming about coming home, you talked almost nonstop. I thought you were awake and were trying to keep me awake, but then you started having nightmares.”
“They were all dead,” I said.
“In your nightmares. Besides, I don’t think rolling up to them in the dark would be the best way to be reintroduced to your family. This way, we’re about two hundred miles away. We can make it there before dinner, if you can help me refill the tanks.”
“I can do that,” I said, stretching.
She was right; crazy had been somewhat of a hallmark of mine and it was what went best. It was when I over-planned things that Murphy would show up and kick me in the balls. This gamble, so far, had paid off well, and I could tell we weren’t on one of the major loops around a big city. The kid had done all right, and I shot her a smile. We had come to a stop about forty feet away from a semi, so I felt around till I found the two empty cans and put them on the still-warm asphalt, and then fished around till I found the barrel pump.
It was something I’d snagged from the farm. It was a pump that sat on top of a 55-gallon barrel. One end went into the fuel, the other end into a tank. It didn’t just pump fuel, but that’s what we were going to use it for. It was kind of like a wind-up power syphon. Tucking that under my arm, I started walking. I heard the crunch behind me and saw Courtney following along slowly. When I got to the semi, I knocked on the large chromed fuel tank behind the driver’s door and was rewarded with a hollow sound about ¾ the way up. It had fuel, and more than we could carry.
Sometimes, I thought I was luckier than I had any right to be, but I never said that out loud. Murphy, of Murphy’s law, loved it when I got too happy or spoke aloud about how well my luck was going. He loved nothing more than to come out of the woodwork and screw up my life. Once it had shrapnel from an IED, another time it was the trap we’d walked into while under sniper fire… or the time I had gotten clean for a short period of time and Mary had said…
What had she said? I popped the top off the fuel tank, got the can in place, and started pumping. As the fuel started flowing, I thought harder. The memory was close to the surface, but I wasn’t sure if it was more dream or memory. It was like I was watching an old black and white movie without the sound. Mary was looking at me, pity in her eyes as I showed her the token. Thirty days clean. It was one of the first times I’d been at Salina’s clinic, and had just gotten over a blood infection from dirty needles. She’d told me, “We’ve been here before, I know you’re trying,” or something like that.
She hadn’t looked at me with any of the warmth that I would have expected. Maybe that was why it was so hard to remember. She’d looked at me like she would look at the neighbors’ twelve-year-old, who’d been caught trying to sneak a peek through the curtains. Disgust, disinterest. Was I really that much of a cad?
“Don’t overflow it,” Courtney yelled.
I flipped her off and got the second can going. Mary… when was the last time I had seen her? When she was leaving me, I knew that, but it seemed like there was one other time now. Had I gone to Arkansas? I remembered a bus ride, a hospital. A doctor had been there. Memories swam into focus. I was laying on a bed in restraints. Not like the one Skinner had me in, but more so that I didn’t lash out and hurt someone by accident. Rehab?
“He’s going to get better, isn’t he?” a child asked.
As much as I tried to remember, I couldn’t see them, but I recognized that it was Maggie’s voice.
“It’s in God’s hands now. He has to stay on his meds, or he’s going to lose it again.” That was Mary, and I could see her talking to someone behind me, probably Maggs.
I tried to remember the rest, but it was gone. I stopped the pump and put the lid on the second can. I walked both full ones to the back and strapped them in. When that was done, Courtney pulled the Hummer up closer.
“Excuse me sir, I need half a tank of unleaded,” she said through my open window.
“Smartass.” I motioned her forward with my hands until she was close enough for me to get the hose into the fuel port.
I took the cap off and started the process over.
“You look like you’re still dreaming,” Courtney said as I turned the handle.
“Memories. Something triggered from my dream,” I told her truthfully.
“What was it? Mary and Maggie?”
“Yeah. I was thinking about the last time I saw them in Chicago… and then realized that I’ve seen them once more.”
“Oh yeah? Where was that?”
“In a hospital somewhere,” I said listening to the gurgle of diesel, knowing I would overflow it if I wasn’t careful.
“You don’t remember?”
“No, not really. So much of my life… There’s huge chunks of time that are just gone. Other memories are like watching an old silent film. You can see what’s going on, but without subtitles or voices, you’re lost.”
“Is it part of… you know…”
I knew. My broken mental process.
“I think so,” I said softly.
“Do you think you’re ever going to be a hundred percent again?”
For a moment I wanted to be angry, but of all people, I realized that she was asking because she truly cared.
“I don’t know. There’s medicine and therapy that I was supposed to stick with.”
“Then the world went to hell,” Courtney said.
“No, I went to hell long before the world did. It’s my fault.”
I was pretty sure I’d told Jamie and Mel my story, how I’d lost Mary and Maggs, and my fell into addiction, but I didn’t want to rehash it with Courtney if I hadn’t. Even those memories were starting to get hazy for me. Almost like what I’d imagined Early Onset Dementia to feel like. Then again, I knew that massive depression and PTSD could cause long and short term memory loss. Funny, of all things, I could remember that.
“Don’t worry, we’ll fix this, all of it, today.”
“Promise?” I asked, a note of hope in my voice.
She laughed at me. The blonde-haired blue-eyed brat laughed at me. I was about to give her some snark when I heard the gurgle at the top of the fueling port, so I quickly pulled the hose and quit pumping before I overflowed the fuel. I capped the truck’s chromed tank, as well as the Hummer’s, before throwing the barrel pump in the back. The smell of fuel wafted up, but I didn’t care. Two hundred miles.
“Hey, McGigglepants, move over. I’m driving.”
“I’m sorry, it’s just…”
“Don’t make me—“
“Don’t!” Her guffaws were loud enough to scare crows up that’d been picking at something further up the road.
I opened the driver’s door and bumped her with my hip until she crawled over the middle and into the passenger seat. I got in and slammed the door, moving the seat back and checking the mirrors.
“Do you need the NVGs?”
“I know where we are,” I said, noticing the mile marker and sign in the distance.
“So, we’re close?”
“Closer than I’ve ever been,” I said, and put it into gear.
49
Two hundred miles. Six hours roughly by my count. It would feel like a lifetime. Still, I drove like a robot while Courtney sleepily watched all around us. The only slip up we had was when we started toward the outskirts of Fort Smith. Two cars were pushed nose-to-nose blocking the highway, and three men were pointing rifles in our direction. Courtney had taken the SAW and put up the tripod on the roof, and when the men saw that, plus the military style Hummer, they pushed the cars apart and walked across the highway with their hands and rifles pointed straight up.
Courtney kept the M249 aimed their way until we were half a mile past. I didn’t know if they were blocking off a small town from people, raiding those they could slow down, or forcing people to listen to their spiel about Jesus and the second coming of Christ. I didn’t care, I barely noticed. I recognized the tunnel vision that I was falling into. It was the same thing that’d happened, during every combat action I’d ever been in. Knowing that, I kept my breathing steady, kept the adrenaline from making me shiver and shake, and just kept on going, trusting Courtney to handle any external threats.
“We’re close now,” I said as she popped back inside from the top hatch.
Our Hummer didn’t have a turret, but that hadn’t prevented Courtney from donning some clear goggles and letting the hot wind blow her hair back. She’d said she felt like Tank Girl, something I’d have to ask Maggie about. I felt out of touch with pop culture, but this one seemed like I’d ought to have remembered it.
“How close?” she asked.
“Inside twenty minutes,” I told her, turning off onto a side street.
We’d been cruising almost nonstop. Instead of keeping the fuel topped off in the Hummer, I’d let it run down, to the point where we’d have to stop soon. Problem was, the rural area we were in, had people drawn to the roadside by the sound of the diesel engine. Many of them were gaunt, but their stomachs weren’t bloated from starvation. More like, regular meals weren’t a normal thing. So, finding a quiet-looking spot where the trees covered both sides of the road, I pulled to the middle and stopped, killing the motor.
It ticked loudly as it started cooling. I swatted at a lazy mosquito that floated in through the open window, intent on dive bombing the side of my neck and got out. Courtney followed.
“I’ll cover you,” she said, hoisting the SAW.
“You’re getting attached to that thing, aren’t you?” I asked her.
“It’s got a whole lot of boom in one package.”
“Here’s a tip for ya, Courtney, that thing is seventeen pounds when it’s empty, and add five pounds for a string of shells. How many reloads do you want to carry?”
“Twenty-two pounds plus reloads doesn’t sound like a lot.”
“Plus your pack, your sidearm, plus your medical supplies, plus…”
“You were about to make a fat joke, weren’t you,” she said pointedly.
“Nope,” I said grinning, “but I’d like to see a lady who’s a buck twenty carry her own body weight, holding a machine gun that makes Arnold looks like a badass in Commando.”
“Was that an old eighties movie?”
“Yeah, why?”
“I thought so. I’ve heard of it. I think my grandpa watched those old eighties flicks.”
“You making an old joke?” I asked her as I started filling the Hummer from the first fuel can.
“Fair’s fair, besides, I’m one-fifteen, not one-twenty.”
“Oh, excuuuuuuuuuuuuse me.”
The banter was lighthearted and we were both being quiet, almost whispering. So I was surprised when I heard someone wolf whistle. I turned, looking while setting the now empty can down.
“I got eyes, Dick, keep on going. It’s just a kid on a BMX on the hill to your left.”
“Ma’am, are you with the Army people?” His voice floated out over the still hot humid air.
“No, just helping a friend get home to his family.”
“Why you got the fancy clothes and machine gun?” he asked, riding closer.
I cursed quietly, knowing that I probably wasn’t going to be able to finish fueling. We would have to do what we could, go, and hope for the best. Still, he didn’t look like a threat, appeared unarmed, and only had eyes for Courtney.
“It’s amazing what you find lying about. My old clothes got gross.”
“Oh,” he said, coming to a stop about thirty feet away from us on the dirt road.
“Mister, I don’t mean no harm,” he said to me.
I nodded and capped the second empty fuel can, then grabbed a third. “What’s your name, kid?”
“Russell, sir,” he said.
“Can you tell me if you know the Pershings?”
“Miss Mary and Miss Maggie? Why, sue, all us guys know Maggie.”
I gritted my teeth and resisted the urge to pull my pistol out until he said, “She’s the one who’s been teaching some of us younger guys to shoot. Said her daddy taught her when she was a little’un. My big brother thinks he’s gonna marry her someday, but I think he’s full of it. She ain’t old enough, and she thinks he smells like a cow’s ass.”
Courtney snorted, and for half a second I kept pouring fuel till I met the kid’s eyes.
“Oh, excuse the language, ma’am,” he said to Courtney, “but she don’t like my brother none. He’s really a jerk. Do you know them?”
“You could say that,” I told him, straining to keep the third fuel can steady while I was pouring.
It became taxing after a while, and unless there was a semi somewhere, this refuel would be what we had till we found more diesel.
“She told me about her daddy once. Soldier who got shot up in one of the wars, a few years before the EMP. You know him?”
His eyes were boring into mine and I nodded. “You could say that.” A smile broke across my face.
“Oh good, I’m glad I didn’t try to steal that kiss at the dance two nights…”
I dropped the gas can and started walking toward him. Courtney put up a hand and pushed me in the chest. I turned and got the fuel can and capped it, before what little was left covered the dirt road.
“He’s just a kid,” she said and looked over her shoulder where we both could see him riding away, like his ass was on fire and his hair was catching. “I think he finally took the hint. Hopefully, he doesn’t ruin your surprise.”
“Oh damn, I didn’t think of that,” I said, putting the can in the back and the cap on the Hummer.
“Want me to drive?”
“No, I got this,” I told her, wiping my hands on my pants. They stank like fuel.
“Let’s git’er done,” she said in a hokey, country-sounding voice.
“Was that a nineties or a millennial reference?” I asked her blandly.
“Yeah, Larry the Cable Guy…”
“Kids,” I said, firing up the Hummer and putting it into gear.
“Is that the gate?” Courtney asked.
“Yeah,” I said, my heart rate through the roof.
My mouth suddenly was dry, and for the first time in weeks, I desperately wanted a drink. Not water, but a good shot of bourbon, whiskey, vodka, something. Something to give me courage, something to—
“Somebody’s coming up the driveway.”
I turned the Hummer off and got out. I didn’t lean on the gate but instead, leaned on the bumper and waited. The thing that scared me more than cannibals came into si
ght and I froze solid, every muscle clenching. A quad was racing into sight, ridden by a man wearing a red-checkered shirt, with steel gray hair that was longer than I remembered, flowing over his shoulders. A permanent scowl would be the first thing a stranger noticed, but for me, it was the .44. He had always carried a Smith and Wesson .44 Magnum, and his Dirty Harry gun was on his hip. He slid to a stop five feet away from his side of the gate, killed the motor, and stepped off.
“What do you want?”
My mouth opened and closed and I tried again, “Hey, Pops. How’s everyone doing?”
He spit, and then looked me over again. Recognition lit his features, but instead of smiling, the scowl deepened.
“Ma’s as ornery as ever. Mary’s making a pumpkin pie from some mix we canned last year, and Maggie is down at the creek with some boy. Teaching him how to shoot.”
“Maggie’s where?” I asked.
“Don’t worry, this boy is about eight-years-old. No need to get your long johns all twisted up. Who’s this lady with ya?”
“This is Courtney. She’s… a friend of mine.”
“A girlfriend, a druggie friend?”
“Excuse me?” Courtney asked, clearly horrified.
“A druggie? You know, somebody who takes too many pills, smokes meth, injects shit in their veins. You some kind of druggie?”
“No, and I’m not his girlfriend, either.” Her scowl matched the old man’s in equal amounts of disgust and horror.
“Oh, just a friend, huh?”
“He saved me from a gang of men who were going to sell me,” she said, her eyes filling with tears, and her hands began to shake with anger.
I was glad she didn’t have the SAW handy. Oh boy, was I glad. The old man did that to me, too.
“Oh well, might as well let you in then. You been clean?” he asked me.
“Yeah,” I lied, not wanting to count the forced injections by Skinner. Thankfully, he’d been out of my dreams lately.
“Hold on, let me unhook the batteries,” he said, and walked to the thick brush, fiddled with something, and then motioned for me as he opened the gate.
“Want me to leave the Hummer here?” I asked him.
The Devil Dog Trilogy: Out Of The Dark Page 54
