Dead Highways (Book 3): Discord

by Brown, Richard

  “Doesn’t take much to do a lot of damage. And that right there is only one of the pieces he pulled out.”

  “Ouch,” I grimaced, and flipped the bullet fragment back to him. “Well, at least you got it out. Hopefully you’ll start feeling better faster now.”

  “Hopefully.” Robinson fell back on the bed and stared up at the ceiling. “So…you like this place?”

  “So far I do. I feel so clean, and everyone has been real nice. Can you imagine where we’d be right now if that helicopter hadn’t spotted us?”

  “No idea. Out on the road somewhere.”

  “I’d rather be here.”

  “Yeah,” Robinson agreed. “Me too. We made it, Jimmy.”

  Lights out on our first day at the school came thirty minutes later. I slept through the night without issue. Not a single nightmare. And if Robinson snored, I didn’t hear it. We had been saving up sleep for so long and we were finally ready to spend it.

  And spend it we did.

  We bought the whole damn night.

  Chapter 109

  A week passed as we settled into our new home.

  We ate.

  We drank.

  We showered.

  We didn’t kill one person.

  Our small group had no regrets about the decision to stay.

  Once a week Paul and Susan would call a meeting in the auditorium to discuss any important details concerning the school, like jobs that needed to be done or ways to make things better. Often there would be a question and answer session, followed by something to vote on. We all took on some level of responsibility. Not only was it the right thing to do, but it kept us busy. It kept us active and socially engaged.

  Naima volunteered to help in the new garden. Peaches wanted to help plan fun events for the children. Bowser was hoping to become a guard like Jenson so he could spend time with his crush, Zoe. And Robinson, once he was fully recovered from the surgery, agreed to work closely with Paul, Susan, and the rest of the committee in the front office overseeing the day-to-day operation of the school.

  Yes, I had a job too.

  I stood in the gym helping place some targets. Ted, in charge of setting up the survival center, had taken me on as his right hand man. We wanted the range to be mobile, easily moved in and out on short notice, that way the gym could still be used for exercising or playing sports. We made the targets by hand using sheets of paper and black markers, placed on tall bookcases we’d plucked from the library. We taped the targets to phone books, since the school seemed to have a good supply of them. It wasn’t the most sophisticated design to a gun range, but it got the job done. Ted also began working on some written materials for people to study. We even put together a short obstacle course that would teach people how to properly use a knife for self-defense. We were both proud of the work we’d put into the range.

  “What do ya say we give it a shot?” Ted asked with a sly smile.

  “Give it a shot. That’s clever,” I said, taping the last target in place. We doubled up on the phone books, hoping they’d be able to stop the bullets from going into the concrete wall behind the bookcases. “It’s up to you. If you think it’s ready.”

  “I think it’ll do for now. At least for a trial run.”

  “You just want to shoot something, don’t you?”

  “Kinda.”

  “I’m okay with that. You think Paul will let us into the armory room?”

  “Doesn’t have to. He gave me a key. Be kind of stupid to put me in charge of the range and not give me access to the weapons.”

  “Okay, I guess that makes sense.”

  “Don’t worry, I should be able to get you a key too soon enough.”

  I shrugged. “Not a big deal.”

  We headed off to the armory and grabbed a few weapons. I was a little disappointed I wouldn’t be able to shoot Sally during practice. Ted suggested we stick with low caliber guns. The point wasn’t to destroy the targets, or even become proficient at hitting them, all that would come later. The point was to get people used to holding and firing a gun. So we made our way back to the gym with a Ruger 10/22 rimfire rifle, a Mark III pistol, and two boxes of .22LR ammunition.

  Over the next hour, we blasted through all of the ammo. Not surprisingly, Ted’s aim was more accurate than mine, though I did better than I thought I would. I was surprised by how little recoil the small pistol had compared to Sally. Ted said the .22 caliber firearms would be perfect for the younger kids to learn on, even many of the adults. I took mental notes. If I was gonna be his assistant, I’d need to learn all this stuff.

  Later in the evening, I met up with Peaches and Craig in the library to play the worst board game in the world. A girl I didn’t know but had seen in the halls joined us. Her name was Emily. She was nineteen, pear-shaped with a cute face and short brown hair. She had a bubbly personality and a squeaky, high-pitched laugh that always made the rest of us giggle along with her.

  Peaches unfolded the game board and set it flat on the table. “You know Monopoly ruins relationships, right?”

  “What are you saying?” I asked.

  “I’m saying two hours from now I won’t want anything to do with you.”

  “Is that true? Man, this is serious business.”

  “Yeah, things can get a little heated at times,” Craig said.

  “I’ve only played before with my grandma,” I replied. “And she didn’t really know what she was doing. I like you all. I hope we can remain friends after this.”

  One hour later, I was the proud owner of Park Place and Boardwalk.

  I rubbed it in.

  I rubbed it in good.

  I began dreaming of mansions in the hills, lush vacation getaways, yachts, private jets, all the things I could buy once I crushed my competition—once I had my monopoly. I was an evil capitalist profiteer with a top hat and a bald cat, twirling my pencil-thin mustache, laughing all the way to the bank.

  An hour later, I was broke because I spent all my cash buying extravagant hotels so no one could land on them. How could they be so lucky? My dreams of empire came crashing down right before my eyes, and I didn’t take it well. The three people who claimed to be my friends smiled as I mortgaged off my property and went bankrupt. I knew then why Peaches had said the game was known to destroy relationships. I hated how they laughed at my pain. I wanted to flip the board upside down and start chucking game pieces across the room.

  Outside, the world had taken a big dump. Infrastructure was in shambles, families were literally torn apart, and millions of dead souls wanted to kill us.

  Inside, we argued over a board game.

  Yeah, we were settling in at the school just fine.

  After cleaning up and the girls had left, Craig pulled me aside for a private chat.

  “What did you think of Emily?” he whispered, even though we were the only two people left in the library.

  “She seemed fine. Why?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “What do you think of Emily?”

  “I like her.”

  “Good,” I said, patting Craig on the shoulder. “Then we’re on the same page. We can invite her to game night again. Just not Monopoly.”

  “No,” Craig whispered even lighter, moving in closer. “I like her.”

  “Oh, you like her like that. You want her to be your girlfriend.”

  “Sure. I thought maybe you could give me a few pointers.”

  And people thought hell had frozen over when The Eagles got back together. A kid asking me for advice on how to get a girl. It was so funny I started laughing.

  “What’s wrong? You don’t think she’d go for me?”

  “No, it’s not that. I’m just surprised that you’re asking me. Why do you think I’d be able to help?”

  “Well, I know you’re with Peaches and all, and I think you two are the only couple living here.”

  “Peaches and I have really only known each other for a short time.”

  Crai
g frowned. “So you’re not together then?”

  “I guess we are. I don’t know. It’s not something we’ve talked about much. But sure…whatever.”

  “But you’ve messed around?”

  My mind went back to the best night of my life at Cathy and Brian’s house. Sure, it wasn’t the real deal—the warm apple pie—but I supposed what happened that night could be classified as “messing around.” It’s not like I was going to tell my new friend Craig I was still a virgin, a title I felt would remain attached to me for quite some time. The school offered little in the way of privacy.

  “What do you want me to do? You want me to ask her out for you? Because I don’t really think that would be a good idea.”

  “No, no,” Craig said. “I just don’t know what to say to her. How to take that next step.”

  “My suggestion would be to not say anything. Just spend time around her and let it come about naturally. It’s not like she has a ton of guys to choose from anyway, so you got the percentages on your side.”

  “Hmm, yeah, that’s a good point.”

  “Glad I could help,” I said. “It’s getting late. Think I’m gonna head off to bed. We can chat more tomorrow.”

  We left the library and went off in opposite directions. I couldn’t stop smiling as I walked down the dimly lit hall to room 156, amazed at how different things were now than when I was actually in school. Back then it felt like I was the only one not with a girl on my arm. Now I was one of only two people there currently in a relationship. The world had been dropped on its head—its brains scrambled. If this kept up, soon cats wouldn’t just be living with dogs, they’d be waiting on them hand and foot.

  My smile disintegrated the minute I turned the corner and saw Aamod standing outside my room. I stopped in my tracks, stayed a good distance away. On instinct, my right hand went for the holster that wasn’t on my hip.

  “Jimmy,” Aamod said in a mild tone. He stared at me with not the least bit of surprise on his face, as though he had been waiting for me to come around the corner.

  “What do you want?” I asked, raising my voice, letting him know I wasn’t in the mood for his shit. My voice echoed in the quiet hallway. I didn’t mind if someone woke up.

  Aamod began coming toward me with slow, unsure steps. “I just wanted to talk to you.”

  I stood my ground. If he came to pick a fight, I’d be ready this time. I let him get within six or seven feet of me, and then said, “That’s far enough.”

  I had caught glimpses of Aamod over the last week, but only from a distance—a faraway thing out of the corner of my eye. There under the soft overhead lamps, I could now see the week of rest had been mostly good to him. Like the rest of us, his body and clothes were clean. His facial swelling had been reduced to nothing. Open cuts had closed. His bottom lip had healed. The only obvious sign he’d been in a fight was the black circle around his left eye.

  “I’m not going to do anything,” he said, showing me his hands. “I promise.”

  “Yeah, well your promises aren’t good here anymore.”

  “You have every right to be angry with me. I shouldn’t have attacked you that night. I…I made a big mistake.”

  Images of him lying broken on the kitchen floor, blood dripping from his face, flashed through my head.

  “You did.”

  “And I…” He bowed his head for a moment and then looked back up. “I wanted to tell you I’m sorry.”

  “Okay. Is that it?”

  I was more than a little taken off guard by his apology. It wasn’t his usual style. I felt vindicated. Although as great as it was to hear him say those words to me, see the shame in his eyes, I didn’t want him to think that he could just say sorry and wipe the slate clean.

  “No, that’s not it,” he said. “Naima told me the truth. She told me what really happened with Jerry, and the things you said to her that night when I…”

  “Went crazy?” I suggested.

  Aamod nodded. “Yes. And I want you to know how much I appreciate what you’ve done for her. Not only then, but before. Jerry might not have done what I thought, but who knows what could have happened if we didn’t get there when we did. You were a big part of that, and I don’t think I ever even thanked you. So I want to do that now.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “I prejudged you, Jimmy, and as a result, pushed my own daughter away. All I ever wanted to do was protect her, and now she doesn’t trust me. But she does trust you, as I should have.”

  “Naima is beautiful,” I said. “She is. And she’s a great person too. But there never was anything going on between us. I’ve already got someone I’m happy with, and I think if you’ll just back off a little, Naima might be able to find someone too.”

  “I know,” Aamod whispered. “I hope she does. I really do. She doesn’t need me anymore.”

  “No, she needs you to be her dad. To support her when she makes decisions. Not make them for her.”

  “I have a favor to ask of you.”

  “What?”

  “I’m not always going to be around, so I want Naima to learn how to defend herself. I know you helped Ted with the range. Do you think you could teach her how to shoot a gun? I would do it, but as you know, I’m not allowed…and that’s okay. I don’t want a gun right now. But Naima still needs to learn. She’ll be nervous, but she trusts you, and I know she’ll be in good hands.”

  “Yeah,” I said. “I can do that. But not as a favor to you. I’ll do it for her sake.”

  “I understand. And thank you.”

  As I watched Aamod walk away, I felt a deep pity for the man. He was a sad and lonely sight—a product of a rapidly changing world he didn’t have the emotional maturity to keep up with. I couldn’t imagine him lasting much longer. His spirit was already dead. Soon his body would follow.

  Chapter 110

  Another week rolled off the calendar.

  We ate.

  We drank.

  We showered.

  We didn’t play Monopoly again.

  I told everyone in our tight group that Aamod apologized to me. They were all equally as surprised as I had been, but no one was convinced he’d turned a corner. Still, Aamod and I kept away from each other. His daughter, however, made a point to come around more. She even sat in on a few game nights in the library, and it was after one such session that I talked to her about learning to shoot. After many words of reassurance, Naima agreed to meet me the following morning in the gym.

  “You gonna help me teach her?” I asked, moving all the targets into place. The day before the gym was used for a pick-up basketball game. When not in use, we stuffed all the bookcases and other target holders in the back storage room.

  “I think I’ll let you go it alone this time,” Ted replied. “If you like I can hang back and observe, but I think you’ll do fine.”

  “Well, I don’t think Naima knows much of anything about guns. Not even the basics.”

  Ted shrugged. “Neither did you at one time.”

  Understatement of the year.

  Naima quietly slipped in a half hour later, shy and apprehensive, like she was about to interview for a job she needed but didn’t actually want. After exchanging morning pleasantries, I grabbed a pistol and pointed out the basic parts of the gun, just as Ted had kindly shown me months back.

  This is how you release the magazine.

  The magazine is where you put the bullets.

  I think I was more nervous than her, hoping I wouldn’t make a mistake with Ted sitting nearby listening in. I suddenly knew what my former teachers must have felt like when the principal sat in on the class to observe, saying nothing but jotting down a million notes. With each scribble of pencil to paper, the pressure to perform intensified.

  Naima loosened up and became more comfortable as the lesson went on, especially after I told her some personal stories about my time training at Ted’s shop. I still held the record for the most stupid questions asked. And even
though Ted was adamant that there was no such thing as a stupid question when it came to firearms, I thought I had asked enough to earn a plastic trophy. Or at the very least a commemorative sticker.

  Finally, we got down to the good stuff.

  “You ready to shoot?”

  “I guess,” Naima said.

  I gave her some eye and hearing protection, which given all we’d been through over the last few weeks, seemed a little ridiculous. None of us wore protection when taking down the infected. When the adrenaline’s pumping, gunshots don’t seem quite as loud. However, when everything got real quiet, as I lay in bed at night trying to get to sleep, I was constantly reminded of the damage done. The endless ringing never stopped.

  Next, I handed over the .22 pistol. Naima held the gun away from her like it was a grenade about to go off.

  “Don’t be afraid of it. You need to have a solid grip but also be relaxed.” I helped her into position, showed her how to line up the sights, and then stepped back. Twenty feet off to the side, Ted gave me the ok sign. “Now when you’re ready, take off the safety like I showed you, then aim and pull the trigger.”

  Naima spent a good minute pointing the gun at the target before firing. Some of it was probably because she was worrying too much about perfectly aligning the sights, but I think a lot of it was just her nerves getting the best of her.

  Bang!

  She trembled a little as the gun went off and then started laughing. “I don’t think I hit the target.”

  “I don’t think you did either,” I said. “But that’s okay. Keep trying.”

  Slowly, round after round, Naima began to gain confidence, even with a crowd gathering around behind us to watch. I figured they were drawn in by the sound. After changing out the magazine, I stood behind Naima and placed my hands on top of hers, demonstrating how to adjust her aim and reiterating that she needed to hold the gun tighter. Naima emptied the second magazine, hitting the target with most of the shots.