by Connor Mccoy
She led them around the corner and up a metal staircase to the second floor. There she opened the door into a room lined with bunk beds. Sally and Mia were both out cold on mattresses on the far side of the room.
“What have you done with them? Or rather, what did you give them?” Glen asked. He’d seen enough drugged patients to know these two were not just sleeping.
“Just a mild sedative,” the old woman said. “It will wear off soon. I have a man waiting for that one,” she said, pointing at Sally. “I’ll offer you a good price for her.” She grinned and her mouth was full of rotten teeth. Glen winced.
“Don’t sell my friends,” he said. “And while you’re at it, I want my ham radio back as well.”
“What radio?” she asked, but then she saw the look in his eyes and nodded. “I will get you the radio.”
While the woman was out of the room, Glen and Christian went to the girls. Glen checked respiration and pulse, relieved to find them healthy. He picked up Sally, and she groaned as he placed her arm over and down his left shoulder bringing her body across his shoulders. At the same time he placed her one leg over his other shoulder, motioning Christian to do the same with Mia. Then they turned and went in search of the old lady and their radio.
She might have tried to escape, but it seems she was smarter than that and was waiting at the outer door with his radio, still in its case, in her hands.
“I think you should be more careful about friends you try to abduct,” Glen said. “One of these days you’ll choose a woman who knows how to fight, and you get yourself killed. Why not stick with women who are willing? At least then you’ll have the moral high ground.”
She didn’t respond, so Glen shrugged, took his radio and headed back to their spot under the trees. Surprisingly, their bedrolls and few belongings still were there when they got back. Perhaps the old woman had the monopoly on thievery in this particular location. They laid the women on their bedrolls and Sally began to moan.
“I have such a headache,” she said, rubbing her eyes. “What happened? Oh, wait, I remember some crusty old man wanted to have sex with me, but he couldn’t because I was losing consciousness. I’m so glad that old hag drew the line at letting him rape me when I was out. How’s Mia?”
“Still unconscious,” Christian said. “I’ll bet she’s pissed off this happened on her watch.”
Glen nodded. “And I’d like to know how they were able to abduct her before she gave the warning. They must have been silent.”
“Silent as the grave,” Sally said. And then, when she saw Christian and Glen looking at her, added, “It’s from a Jane Austen movie,” she said.
Christians snorted and knelt down next to Mia, rubbing her arms.
“I’m sorry,” Sally said, “but not everything is guns and cars, as much as you guys would like it to be.”
They might have argued that point but Mia had begun groaning and thrashing around. “Let me go!” she said, and Christian yanked his hands away. But she opened her eyes and smiled. “You’re not the old bag. Lucky for you, I was about ready to take a swing at you.”
“How did she get hold of you in the first place?” Glen asked.
“I was stupid,” she said dejectedly. “She stood over there and beckoned me. I thought she needed my help, but instead held some foul-smelling cloth over my face. If this were an historical novel, it would have been ether or some sort of spirits. Next thing I knew, I was in a room with a bunch of other women standing in front of this group of men. It’s pretty clear what we were there for, so I started swinging. Not that that did me any good. They just drugged me again. It’s a good thing you came to rescue us because I might’ve killed somebody if you hadn’t.” She sat up leaned to the far side of her sleeping bag and vomited in the grass.
The next thing Glen knew, Sally was vomiting too. Christian started to turn green, and Glen sent him to fetch water. “Don’t come back until you don’t feel sick anymore, you understand?”
Christian nodded and hurried away.
Glen grumbled about being left to clean up the girls by himself, but he didn’t mean it. He knew only too well that it took a particular kind of person to deal with vomit, mostly moms and nurses, but the occasional doctor was good at it too. How fortunate for him that he was one himself.
Glen kept watch for the rest of the night, knowing he probably could sleep during the ride into the city. He woke the others at dawn and they packed up, used the restrooms, and went to stand in line for the shuttle. He was tempted to offer a little extra to ride in the comfortable vans, but it was a waste of resources. So, he tamped down his annoyance and gave the man at the door a supply of sterile bandages. The driver was quite pleased.
He almost laughed at that. How fortuitous that he would possess some of the most valuable items in today’s world. Had he known he would have stored more medical supplies. He was feeling a bit antsy. It had been a very long time since he’d been in the crush of humanity and he was low on sleep.
It was dark inside the bus, the windows being covered in plywood that was bolted to the metal body, and the only light coming through the dirty windshield. The bus was towed by the cab of a semi and the windshield wasn’t really needed. Glen was a little surprised they hadn’t covered that as well, but glad they hadn’t. Without the front windows, they might as well be riding in a shipping container with seats bolted to its floor.
They took seats toward the back of the bus where there was a bit more room. Mia curled up and put her head on Christian’s shoulder, the pair of them dropping into unconsciousness almost immediately. Sally took a double seat and curled up, Glen couldn’t tell if she was sleeping or just lost in her own thoughts. At some point, they would have to talk about what had happened last night. Too bad he wasn’t a psychologist. If he had been, he’d know how to help her. He took a seat in the back and leaned against the cool glass of the boarded-up window and slept.
Chapter Six
Mia awoke with her senses on high alert. The rocking motion of the bus had stopped, although she still could hear the growl of the semi’s engine. They weren’t moving, and not being able to see out the window made her feel claustrophobic. The words to a David Bowie song her mother used to sing ran through her head, “For here am I, sitting in a tin can…” But instead of being far above the world she was stuck on its surface.
She took deep breaths through her nose, forcing down the panic that threatened to overtake her. Here I am sitting in a tin can. A sitting duck. Trapped. The fear began to well up again. Breathe, Mia, breathe. She looked around. Christian and Sally still were asleep, but Glen was alert and had the look of a man who was listening intently.
She slid out of the seat and went to the front of the bus to peer out the windshield. There wasn’t much to see. The cab of the semi towing them blocked the forward view, and nothing was happening on either side. She stepped down into the stairwell and put her eye to the gap between two boards. One of the outriders was sitting on his motorcycle just outside the door. Guarding them, she thought.
He was facing the rear of the bus, and it seemed as though that’s where the activity was. He had one hand on the gun in his hip holster, the other on the bike’s accelerator. She could hear the low whine of the engine and see the vibration even at an idle. It occurred to her they were sitting ducks. There was only one way in and out, the emergency exits had been boarded over. Here we are, sitting in a tin can.
She pushed open the door and stepped down out of the bus into the late morning sunshine. The shuttle was stopped in the middle of the interstate; a bus had been rolled across the road, blocking the lanes. Behind the shuttle a series of off-road vehicles had pulled to a stop, preventing escape in that direction. Mia marveled at the variety of machines that had made it through the EMP, from off-road motorcycles to ATVs to four-wheel drive trucks. There had to be at least twenty-five vehicles out there. Each with at least one driver, some with passengers as well.
Two people, possibly a man and a wom
an, stood forward of the pack talking with the driver of the semi towing the bus. Mia hoped someone else on their team could drive the semi. Otherwise, if something happened to the driver they were stuck. The pair carried weapons held ready in their hands, pointed at the ground, but just a finger twitch away from lethal.
The men on the platform on the back of the bus held their rifles loosely by their sides, almost casually, unless you noticed their set jaws and the tension in their necks. They all were standing, except for one woman who sat on the edge of the platform, legs crossed at the ankles, swinging her feet. She projected an image of a summer’s day picnic by the lake. But she not only had her rifle out, but also a handgun tucked into her waistband and a knife in a sheath on her thigh.
The guy on the motorcycle guarding the bus noticed Mia. “Get back on the bus,” he said. “I can’t protect you if you are out here.”
Mia wondered if he could protect her at all. She went back on the bus to talk to the others.
Everyone was awake now. “What’s going on?” a man called from the middle of the bus.
“It looks like a hold-up,” Mia said. “But I don’t know for sure. A man is guarding the bus, and he said we should stay inside so he can protect us.”
She moved to the back of the bus, ignoring the questions peppering her. They could just work it out for themselves.
“I’m not comfortable being trapped in this bus,” she said as she flopped into her seat next to Christian. She’d almost said “trapped in this tin can,” but she felt the further she got from that song the better. Dragging dreams into reality was not a good thing.
“I understand it’s easier to protect one entrance, but there’s no escape if it’s breached. And what’s to stop those highwaymen from just opening fire from outside? This bus isn’t bulletproof.” She looked around at the plywood-covered windows and wondered if the glass would shatter in on them when the bullets came through the wood.
“We are an investment,” Glen said. “If we go missing or are injured, word will get out that the shuttle isn’t safe. It’s probably at least partially why we’re boarded in. We can’t see the scary stuff. They put us in a box and protect it. We get to where we’re going none the wiser and spread our happy message that the shuttle is safe and wonderful, if hot and stuffy.”
“I don’t like it,” Christian said. “I think we should go out and join the fight. I don’t need to be protected.”
“I’m not sure they need more people,” Mia said. “There are several vehicles and about twenty riders between them and us. But I wouldn’t be adverse to escaping this death trap and catching the shuttle again up the road.”
“They might not pick us up again,” Sally said, “and we’d have to walk to the city. Well, or get picked off by the bandits that apparently roam the highway. I’m glad we didn’t see them on our way to the shuttle stop.” She shivered. “I didn’t realize the roads weren’t safe.”
“We were probably safe enough,” Glen said soothingly. “It’s not like we were carrying boxes of loot or anything like that. Had they approached us I would have given them the radio. It’s the only thing we have of value.” His look told them not to mention the jewelry each of them had hidden on their person. That was something they did not need to advertise. There were probably passengers inside the shuttle who were just as ruthless as the bandits outside.
Mia looked around, assessing the other passengers. Anyone of them could be listening, and their encounter with the madam at the shuttle stop had taught her that little old ladies were not necessarily kindly personages wanting to help. She couldn’t really trust anyone outside their small group.
“I want to step outside for some air,” she said, “and maybe freshen up some.” She gathered her bag under cover of her last sentence and started off the bus, hoping the others would get the hint and follow.
“Wait up,” Sally said, “I’m coming too.”
“You shouldn’t get off the bus, girls,” a middle-aged woman with tired eyes said from near the front of the bus. “They can’t protect you if you get off the bus.” She didn’t try to stop them as they passed, however. So, not a guard in disguise.
“Come on, Glen,” Christian said. “We might as well go too. There may not be another chance before we get to the city.”
No one else followed, which relieved Mia but also worried her. Was everyone else in on the holdup, or were they just too smart or too scared to leave the perceived safety of the vehicle? The guard on the motorcycle outside just shook his head at them. Mia almost could hear him thinking ‘there’s one in every crowd.’ Only in their case, it was four.
They skirted around the front of the bus, clambering over the tow-bar. As they passed the big truck cab, Mia looked up. The driver side door wasn’t closed all the way. “Anybody know how to drive a tractor-trailer? she asked. All their heads were indicating no. They didn’t know how to drive a tractor-trailer, and why would they? “Should we hide in there then?”
“I don’t think so,” Glen said. “It’s too coincidental and too close to the bus.” His eyes widened, and he grabbed Mia, pulling her away from the truck.
She whirled to see the barrel of a gun poking through the slightly open door. Behind that, she could see a pair of eyes staring her down. The contrast between the dark inside of the truck and the bright world outside made it hard to say what color those eyes might be, but Mia’s imagination supplied steely-gray, and that seemed appropriate.
“Get back to the bus.” The words from inside the semi were thick with gravel, like she’d smoked too many cigarettes and wasted her voice box.
Mia wanted to reply ‘Make us!’ but she’d become a little more circumspect and possibly a little more mature, to say nothing of wanting to stay alive. She and Glen began to back away, and she motioned to Christian and Sally to get moving away from the semi in the opposite direction from the bus. Mia darted around the front of the semi, out of the line of sight. She hoped the shooter wasn’t stupid enough to discharge her firearm through the windshield, but it wasn’t Mia’s fault if she did.
They jogged away, winding their way around and between the shuttle vehicles and cars that had been abandoned on the freeway. The lead vehicle had a cow catcher on the front, and Mia wondered if this was how they’d cleared the first path through all the cars and trucks. From the looks of it, it had been rush hour when this area had been hit by the EMP. There was almost a solid wall of cars along the side of the roadway.
So they kept moving, winding in and out of the lead vehicles and the cars that had been abandoned on the road. The drivers of the shuttle vehicles ignored them, if they saw the four of them at all. Their attention was focused on the scene playing out behind them.
When they reached the bus that had been pushed across the road, Mia noticed there were tire tracks worn into the ground behind the bus. This bus was moved frequently, it seemed. She followed the ruts to a concrete slab hidden behind weedy bushes. Perhaps this was a ‘regular’ stop on the shuttle run, and the standoff a performance the passengers never got to see. Or maybe the guy on the motorcycle was correct, and there was one in every crowd, the intended audience of the tableau.
Mia turned to Glen. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” she asked.
“If you think the hold-up is a regular performance put on for the benefit of the travelers on board the shuttle, then yes, I’m thinking what you’re thinking,” Glen said grimly.
“What are you talking about?” Christian said, narrowing his eyes.
Mia showed him the tire tracks behind the bus and the concrete slab where it rested when not used as a roadblock.
“What’s it called when you are pressured for money you’ve already paid?” Sally’s mouth was drawn into a thin line.
“Highway robbery,” Christian said.
“Extortion,” Mia said.
“A shakedown,” Glen added.
“What are we going to do about it?” Sally asked.
“Walk to Detroit,” Glen
said. “I doubt they’ll pick us up again without another payment. And I’m not paying.”
“Maybe one of these cars is old enough that it didn’t have any electronics to get fried,” Sally said, motioning to the cars lining the interstate. “Someone could have been stuck in a gridlock of non-functioning cars. You never know.”
“Keep an eye out,” Glen said, “but don’t be disappointed if they’ve all had their fuel siphoned out. They’ve been here a long time, and I have a hard time believing no one thought of stripping them of every useful item, starting with the gasoline.”
“Why hasn’t word gotten out about the shuttle people shaking down its passengers?” Sally asked, skirting around a dirty white Prius. “You’d think that would be common knowledge by now.”
Mia ran a finger across the hood of an old Honda. There was a thick layer of dirt covering the cars, and she wondered if the rain washed them clean or just made them muddy. If they did find an old car to drive, they’d have a hard time getting the windshield clean.
“Maybe it is common knowledge, and we just weren’t in the loop,” Christian said. “Maybe everyone else on the bus had been through that before and had their little cache of valuables all ready to be handed over.”
“As if,” Sally said. “Here I thought, ‘How altruistic to run a shuttle so people can travel,’ when in fact, it’s just another way to rip off people.” Her face reflected the disgust she was feeling. “I can’t help but look for the good in the world, but it’s sure not easy to find.”
Sally clumped along in front of Mia, muttering to herself and smacking the hoods of the cars they passed. Mia felt for her. This was not the world they were expecting to inherit from their families. Not that she’d been anticipating a bed of roses, mind you. Her family had worked hard for what they had.
It struck her that maybe she wasn’t smart to be returning to the city. A lot of bad things had happened there, and she suspected there were more to come. Evil, too, probably. She was going back because she didn’t want to be separated from Christian. He was her lifeline in this world. But was he going to be able to protect her? They had barely made it out alive the first time.
