by Roger Hayden
All of their bodies swayed back and forth. The top of the Jeep was off and the wind flew everyone’s hair around wildly. Bungee cords held down the supplies they packed the day before.
“Anne, I need you to tell me where I’m going,” Ulysses.
Anne didn’t move. Her face was frozen. Ulysses downshifted back into second gear, narrowly missing a black Lexus. Anne didn’t move. She held tight to back of the seat, watching the smoke shrink in the distance.
“Anne!’ Ulysses shouted.
With the combination of the roar from the engine, the wind, and the adrenaline coursing through his body, Ulysses’ voice was harsh.
Anne sat down in the seat and pulled open the glove box. She flipped through the stacks of paper and pulled out a map, focusing every shred of her will on the task of getting her family to the cabin.
“You’ll want to follow highway 60 all the way to I-376 and take that North; from there we’ll take 30 North to 39 West. That’ll lead us all the way into Ohio by Carrollton where the cabin is,” she said.
The wind kept flipping the map closed. Anne shoved it on the ground and glanced back behind her. The street was no longer in view. Her eyes shifted to her children in the back seat. Tears rolled down both of Freddy’s cheeks.
“Everything’s going to be fine, sweetie,” Anne said.
She gently cupped her hands around Freddy’s face and kissed his forehead. Her eyes flitted up once more at the smoke behind her, the only thing, still visible.
“Do we have enough gas to get us there?” Ray asked.
“We have a full tank now, the cabin’s only seventy miles away. Even with the gas mileage this thing gets we should have enough,” Ulysses said.
The more distance they put between themselves and Pittsburgh the fewer cars they ran into.
Ulysses watched the faces on the people they passed walking along the sides of the highway. Their mouths dropped at the sight of the Jeep. Each time the look was the same: shock followed by desperation. Arms waved, voices shouted, people ran for them, but they didn’t stop. Ulysses’ face was stone. There was no emotion upon hearing the shouts of their pleas. The fire that was consuming the home behind them was also ablaze inside him.
Ray watched the “Welcome to Ohio” sign flash by. His hands wrapped around the wood stock of the rifle. No one had said anything for the past hour. The howling wind was the only sound his ears had come across.
“How much further?” Ray asked.
“About 40 miles,” Anne said.
The abandoned cars became more sporadic. They hadn’t seen anyone for a few miles. Ray shifted the gun to the other shoulder and leaned up between the two front seats.
“We should start checking some of these cars for supplies,” Ray said.
“I don’t want us to stop,” Ulysses said.
“We might find something we could use in one of them.”
“Mike has everything we need at the cabin.”
“That doesn’t mean there won’t be something useful. We might not get a chance like this again.”
“Drop it, Ray.”
Ray fell back into his seat, shaking his head. It’s not that he didn’t believe Mike was well prepared. He was sure that the cabin would be well stocked with provisions. He just didn’t want to miss an opportunity. Ray knew the longer this lasted the more scarce resources would become, and while Mike was sure to have supplies, there was no way he would have enough supplies to last them the rest of their lives.
Freddy started to squirm in the seat next to Ray. He shifted in his seat and his leg bounced up and down.
“You alright, Freddy?” Ray asked.
“I have to pee.”
“Can you hold it?” Anne asked.
Freddy shook his head.
“Ulysses, pull over,” Anne said.
“Anne,” Ulysses said.
“Freddy has to go to the bathroom.”
“I really have to go, Grandpa,” Freddy said.
Freddy bounced up and down on the seat. The Jeep slowed to a crawl and pulled off onto the side of the road. Freddy climbed over Kalen and jumped over the side of the Jeep landing on the pavement.
“Kalen, go with your brother and make sure he doesn’t go too far,” Anne said.
“Ew, gross! I’m not going to the bathroom with him.”
“You’re not going to the bathroom with him, just making sure he doesn’t get lost. Now go.”
Kalen rolled her eyes and jumped out of the backseat. She grabbed Freddy’s hand and the two walked toward a tree line twenty yards from the edge of the highway. The trees were tall, and the area was thick with bushes.
From the back seat Ray could see a SUV parked fifty yards ahead of them. His feet hit the pavement and walked past Ulysses on the driver side.
“Where are you going?” Ulysses asked.
“I’m going to scout that car. Just pick me up when the kids get back.”
Ray removed the rifle from his shoulder and tucked it under his shoulder. His feet stepped lightly on the pavement. He scanned the sides of the road, looking for any signs someone was still close by, but couldn’t see anything through the thick brush.
The barrel of the rifle rose once he moved closer to the car. He peered through the back window, checking for anyone inside. He worked his way up to the driver side door and pulled the handle. Locked. He walked around checking each door, but all of them were closed.
The butt of the rifle smashed against the passenger side window. The glass shattered, but didn’t break. Ray gave the window another blow and the butt of the rifle crashed through the window. He cleared the crumbling bits of glass from the rest of the window and reached his hand through to unlock the door.
Ray brushed the glass of the seat and climbed inside. He searched the glove box, checked the back seat, under the seats, and the side door panel containers. A half-eaten packet of crackers, road flares and a bottle of water were his rewards. He looked behind him and saw the Jeep still idling along the side of the road. He leaned the seat back and put his feet on the dash. He pinched the corners of one of the crackers in his fingers and tossed it in his mouth.
“Just do it over there, Freddy,” Kalen said.
“I don’t want anyone to see me,” Freddy said.
“Well, by the time you pick a spot Grandpa’s gonna leave you.”
“No!”
“Better hurry up then.”
The thick layer of pine needles under Kalen’s boots made each step soundless. She wandered through the trees, glancing back at the road every once and a while making sure the Jeep was still in view. She could see her mom pacing back and forth through the leaves and branches.
The forest was quiet. She thought back to the many times her dad took her hunting. She remembered how much she fought him about it, how she complained that she didn’t want to go, but grew to love it. She could still hear his voice, don’t aim where the game is, aim where it’s going to be.
Kalen leaned her head back against the hard bark of the tree. Sunlight struggled to break through the dense leaves above. The trees’ long shadows covered the ground. She closed her eyes, completing the darkness around her. The snap of a twig caused her to open her eyes again.
“Freddy, don’t come over here and do it. I don’t want to se –”
A hand came up from behind her and covered her mouth. Her arms were pinned at her sides and she was pressed hard against a man’s body she didn’t know. He could feel his hot breath on her ear, whispering.
“Shhhhh.”
Kalen couldn’t see the attacker. Her breaths were sharp, sporadic. Her body shook. She could feel the grime of the man’s hand on her lips. The sour stench from days of not bathing engulfed her.
“Scream and your family dies, understand?”
She slowly nodded her head.
“Good.”
He turned her around against the trunk of the tree, keeping his hand over her mouth. She saw the yellow in his teeth, the bits of old food in his bea
rd. The point of his blade dug into her chin.
“Kalen, I’m done,” Freddy shouted.
The man put his finger to his lips. She watched his eyes move in the direction of Freddy’s voice. She could feel her heart beating out of her chest, thumping faster.
“Kalen?” Freddy asked.
She could hear Freddy’s feet shuffling through the pine needles and twigs on the ground. The man’s face turned into a smile. He moved the blade from her chin and kept it poised in front of him. He wasn’t looking at her anymore. She saw the side of his ribs exposed. Freddy’s footsteps were just beyond the tree beside them.
“Kalen, whe-”
Before Freddy turned the corner Kalen shoved her foot into the man’s rib cage knocking him down.
“Freddy, run!” Kalen screamed.
Her feet fell from under her, slipping on dead leaves. Her belly slapped against the ground, hard. Freddy stood frozen in shock. She got to her knees and before she was able to stand up she felt the grip of a hand around her ankle pulling her backwards.
“Help!” Kalen said.
Kalen’s fingers clawed in the dirt as her assailant pulled her deeper into the forest. She felt his arms wrap around her stomach and lift her off the ground, carrying her. She thrashed her arms and legs in defiance, but he managed to subdue her. He wrapped his large hands around her throat and squeezed.
“Shut up!” the man said.
Kalen could see her mother and grandfather through the trees, rushing toward her from the distance.
“Kalen!”
She tried to call out, but the man’s grip was too tight. She could barely breathe. The airflow was cut off and she gasped, coughing and choking for air. Then she felt her whole body being thrown to the ground.
The back of her head smacked against a tree root. Her body went limp, disoriented from the blow. She felt foreign hands grabbing her, ripping her shirt off, tugging at her jeans. When she started to regain her ability to fight back a fist came barreling into the side of her cheek. A numbing, ringing sound went through her skull. She couldn’t feel anything anymore. The forest around her spun in circles and faded in and out of her consciousness until everything went black.
Kalen’s head throbbed. Her face was sore and she felt the scratch of the blanket covering her skin. She glanced down and saw that her shirt was gone and she was wearing only her jeans and bra. The cracks in the Jeep’s seat scraped her bare back. She tried to get up, but felt dizzy and fell back down.
“Kalen?” Freddy asked.
She hadn’t noticed him sitting on the floorboard next to her. She turned her head and saw his eyes blinking up at her.
“What happened?” she asked.
“Grandpa and Ray pulled you out of the forest with some other man. You weren’t moving, so Grandpa brought you to the Jeep. You didn’t have your clothes on,” he said looking down at his knees.
“A man?” she asked to herself.
“He was scary looking. After Grandpa brought you back to the Jeep he went with Ray who took the man back into the woods.”
A breeze lifted Kalen’s hair. She shivered, but not from the wind. She couldn’t remember what happened and she was afraid to learn what did.
The man lay sprawled out on the ground. Blood dripped from Ulysses’ and Ray’s knuckles. Each of them had their turns beating him. The man’s face was swollen, blood poured from his broken nose.
Ulysses sent the toe of his boot into the man’s side repeatedly, each blow causing the man to double over in pain. He cried out for mercy. He begged, but the punishment was relentless.
Ray picked up the same knife the man held to Kalen’s throat. His fingers wrapped tightly around the handle. Ray knelt down and pressed the blade flat against the swollen bruises and cuts along his face.
“Hold him down, Ulysses.”
Ulysses pinned the man to the ground. Ray unbuckled the man’s pants and pulled them down around his ankles.
“Please. P-please, don’t do this,” the man said.
Ray brought the blade below the man’s waist. The blood curding screams that followed were the tortured sounds of an animal.
3
Day 5 (Biker Gang)
The ray of light coming in through the crack of the curtains hit the Diablos patch on Jake’s cut hanging from the corner of the chair. Jake lay sprawled across the bed, his arm hanging over the side with his fingertip next to an empty bottle of tequila. Someone pounded on his room’s door.
“Jake!” Frankie said.
Jake slowly rolled over, bumping into the naked girl lying next to him.
“Jake! We got a problem!” Frankie shouted.
Jake threw the door open, the president’s patch flipping forward as he adjusted his cut.
“You better come see this, boss.”
Jake followed Frankie down the hall and into the bar lounge. Pictures of motorcycles, girls, bands, and alcohol lined the walls.
A few of the motorcycle club members sat at the bar drinking beers. The crack of pool balls on the table and a few mumbles from the bikers were the only signs of life in the lounge.
Frankie opened the door from the bar to the garage. Candles were lit casting light on two huddled masses on the floor with bags over their heads. Frankie ripped the paper bags off, their eyes blinking adjusting to the dim light in the garage.
“Meet Jimmy Fance and Bobby Turnt,” Frankie said.
“Where’d you find them?” Jake asked.
“Sneaking around the back, looking for any supplies they could take. Isn’t that right?”
Frankie kicked Jimmy in the leg, sending him collapsing to the floor.
“What do you wanna do with them?” Frankie asked.
Jake scanned the garage. His eyes rested on the tools and equipment he’d used for building and maintaining the bikes that came through. He grabbed a bolt wrench off the table.
“Stand them up,” Jake said.
Frankie pulled Bobby up by the collar of his shirt. Bobby’s hands were tied behind his back and he kept his face pointing toward the grease stained floor.
“Look at me,” Jake said.
Bobby’s face rose slowly. Jake’s face was calm. His pronounced jaw was relaxed, the wrench gripped firmly in his hand.
“You think you can steal from me? From my brothers?”
“We didn’t steal anything,” Bobby said.
The force of the wrench hitting Bobby’s kneecap crippled him, sending him to the floor in agony. Bobby cursed every name under the sun.
When the screams died down Jake smashed the wrench into Bobby’s other knee. Jimmy tried to make a run for it, but Frankie caught him before he got out.
“Wait your turn, asshole,” Frankie said.
“C’mon, man, we didn’t steal anything. You made your point, just let us go, man,” Jimmy said.
“Not yet,” Jake replied.
Jake swung the wrench high and sent it crashing down into Bobby’s head. The skull caved from the force of the blow. Bobby lay motionless in a crippled mess on the floor.
Jake dropped the wrench to the ground. He walked over to Jimmy who was crying and shaking in Frankie’s grip.
“You see this? You tell everyone you know that this is what happens to anyone who robs the Diablos. Got it?” Jake asked.
Jimmy nodded sharply.
“Get this piece of shit out of here,” Jake said.
Frankie tossed him out of the back door of the garage and the man took off running. Jake wiped the specks of blood from his hands on a rag.
“Why didn’t we kill him?” Frankie asked.
“Fear,” he said. “Fear grows with legend, Frankie. He tells the story to one person, they tell another, and each time they do the story grows more intense, gruesome. When people see the Diablo patch they’ll know what they’re dealing with.”
Jake finished cleaning his hands and tossed the rag onto Bobby’s body.
“Take out the trash,” he said.
Jake walked back into the
bar lounge and pulled a stool over to him. The bartender poured a glass of beer and handed it to Jake. Jake took half of it down in one swig.
The girl from Jake’s bedroom walked out and sat on the barstool next to him. Her makeup was smeared across her face, and her hair was tangled. The bartender poured a drink for her and slid it down. Before she could grab it Jake snatched it up.
“What the hell, Jake?” she asked.
Jake finished the beer he had, slammed it down on the counter, and then backhanded the girl. She flew off the stool and smacked the floor hard. Jake took a sip from the fresh beer and gently placed it down.
The girl crawled away from him. Blood dripped from her lower lip. Jake picked her up by her hair and jerked her head back.
“You don’t get to drink until I’m not thirsty anymore,” Jake said.
Jake tossed her forward. She stumbled in her heels and then disappeared to the back of the clubhouse.
The other members of the MC chuckled from the bar. Jake walked back over to his stool, sat down, and finished his drink.
The line of bikes out front stretched twenty wide across the parking lot. You could see the door to the clubhouse was open from the street and the patches on the backs of members could be seen inside.
Jake stood in a circle surrounded by his MC. The worn faces of men who’d lived their lives in the wind, sun, and rain looked at their president, hungry.
“Diablos, this city is dead. If we want to make it, we have to keep moving. We scoured the city for as many working bikes as we could. They’re all older models, but they run. Each of you is here because you’re the strongest of our club. You represent who we are, and what we do,” Jake said.
Frankie stood at Jake’s side, his hands behind his back, watching his leader.
“We’re riding south. We hit town after town and take what we find. This is our time, Diablos. The strong are powerful again.”
The men around Jake were dangerous and wild. Pistols hung from their hips and shotguns rested over their shoulders. The bikers shifted their weight on each foot with a vicious cadence, itching to wreak havoc.
