Calvin caught up with them. “I hate walking.” He stepped in between Conner and Naomi. “I’ve always hated it, even when I was a boy. I was hoping at this time we’d all be on hoverboards.”
“Perhaps if you went to the gym with me more, you’d have a different perspective,” Naomi said.
Calvin shrugged. “Eh, probably not.” He turned to Conner. “So what’s the plan with you guys?”
“I don’t understand what you’re asking,” Conner replied.
“Where are you going to go now that you’re out of Philly?”
Conner grew quiet for a moment. “I’ve been asking myself that for a long time. Honestly, I thought I’d hunker down some time before York.”
“That was fifty miles ago,” Calvin reminded him.
“It was,” Conner replied. “Right now, I don’t quite know. Your truck has been a Godsend. Without it, I don’t know where I’d be.”
“So… you don’t know where you’re going?” Calvin asked.
Naomi glared at him.
Conner sucked in his lips and breathed deeply through his nose. His eyes glossed over a little bit. “As of now, we haven’t decided. It’s really just been about survival. Perhaps your brother will take us in.”
“I’ll talk to him,” Naomi said. “He’s not the most open person in the world. He may take some convincing.”
“Whatever we need to do keep my father and Becca safe, we’ll do,” Conner said firmly.
Calvin didn’t have any more questions.
It was sundown, and their legs felt like jelly. The lonely auto shop was tucked into the side of the road. It was the last stop at the end of the world. A blanket of snow rested on the slanted roof of the drab red building. It had four garages. Three were open with vehicles suspended on the lift. Another dozen junk cars were parked around the edges of the property.
Calvin hunched over and rested his palms on his knees. He took long, winded breaths. His eyes narrowed as he looked at the shop. “They better freaking have the parts.”
Naomi wiped the sweat from her brow with the top of hand. She favored her right foot, though both were equally in pain. Conner took a big gulp from his water bottle and handed it off to her. She squeezed it a few inches away from her mouth, allowing the cool liquid to refresh her on the cold day. She handed it to Calvin. He waterfell it, spilling a little down his chin. He handed it back to Conner.
“Don’t trust me?” he asked half-jokingly as he put the cap back on the bottle.
Calvin smirked. “I don’t trust biology. Had mono once. Never again.”
They reached the auto shop, taking one last moment to look down the endless road. They approached the middle garage door. A 1950s Ford Diesel truck was suspended eight feet above the garage floor. A man with balding head stood on a small stepping stool and worked his hands through the bottom of the engine. Grease coated his hair arms up to his elbow. His beer belly bulged under his jacket. He mumbled swear words as he violently pulled at a part of the engine. “Come on, you son of a…”
Conner kept his shotgun slung over his shoulder. Naomi concealed her new pistol beneath her coat. She cleared her throat.
The balding man paused for a moment. He gave them a sideways glance and got back to pulling on whatever he was trying to get out. He pinched the part and pulled so hard that his meaty face glowed red and his eyes clenched shut. After a long tense moment, he released the part and stormed down the stepping tool, kicking a bucket away in frustration. With droopy grey eyes, he looked at the three visitors. A heavy frown sunk his crabapple cheeks. He grabbed a dirty rag to wipe the dirt off his thick forearms.
“Shop’s closed.” He looked them up and down. “Inclement weather.”
“Our truck broke down outside of Poolesville--”
“Oh really?” The repairman’s sarcasm wasn’t lost on any of them. Naomi read his name tag. Bob. He looked like a Bob.
Calvin’s mouth formed a line on his face. He set his brows and continued. “It’s a 1983 Land Rover. It wasn’t affected by the blast.”
“Well, aren’t you something special?” Bob said with a demeaning smile.
Naomi took a step forward. “Bob, we walked twelve miles to come here. I have a thirteen-year-old daughter and a crippled eighty-one-year-old man who are freezing to death on the interstate. We need this crap. Cal, give him the list.”
Calvin handed him the sticky note that Calvin had spent the walk over folding perfectly. Bob flipped it open, smearing it with engine grease. Chin down, he turned his eyes up to them. “Tall order.”
Conner tapped his finger on the list. “You have those in stock?”
“Why would I tell that to a man with a gun?” Bob asked rhetorically.
“I’d argue that’s the one person you would tell.”
The men glared at each other. It suddenly got very cold.
Naomi stepped in. “If you have the parts, we’re willing to trade.”
Conner nodded. “We could be the last buyers you have for a long time.”
Bob looked at Calvin. “You got something to say?”
“Not really,” Calvin replied honestly. “I just want to get this stuff and go. Whatever makes that process easier, I’m game.”
“I knew you had something to add,” Bob replied.
Calvin downcast his eyes, his frustration building.
Bob looked over the list. “You all look like honest folk. How much is this stuff worth to you?”
Conner unzipped his coat pocket and pulled out a wad of cash. Naomi’s eyes went wide in surprise. To see him toting around that kind of doe took her off guard.
Bob stared at it, practically salivating with greed. He put back on his negotiator’s mask. “It’s a pretty good start.”
“That’s five grand,” Conner told him. “It’s more than triple the amount that those parts of worth.”
Bob smirked. “Yeah, five Gs is really going me far when I have mouths to feed and the missus to protect.”
Conner sighed exasperatedly and went to put the money back in his pocket.
Bob spoke up. “I never said I didn’t want the money. It’s just not enough.”
“Okay,” Conner said cautiously. “What will make you happy?”
Bob thought on it, taking time to look over each one of them. “How much food you got?”
The three of them emptied their pockets. They had eight packets of peanuts, two packets of M&Ms, one large packet of trail mix, Craisins, and yogurt-covered pretzels Calvin really did not want to part with. They also had four large bottles of water remaining.
Bob didn’t look too impressed. “Light packers.”
“It was a twelve-mile hike,” Naomi reminded him.
“In the cold,” Conner added.
Bob showed no sympathy. He looked over Calvin. Nothing sparked his interest. He went to Naomi next. “You got a familiar face,” he said.
“I was on The Morning Show a few times,” Naomi bragged, hoping to use her stardom to gain leverage.
Bob didn’t seem to be impressed. He went to Conner, the most pissed-off of all them. “Nice gun. Mossberg?”
“Winchester. Super X1,” Conner boasted. He locked eyes with the greasy mechanic. “Not for sale.”
Bob clicked his tongue. “Shame. That would’ve sealed the deal.”
Conner furrowed his brows. “It’s not happening.”
Bob slung his grease rag over his shoulder. He glanced up at the sky. “I guess there’s nothing I can help you folks with.”
Calvin turned to Conner. “Just gave him the gun, man.”
Conner’s brows furrowed further as his anger rose. “He can screw off.”
“We’ll find another shotgun,” Calvin argued, letting the desperation show in his voice.
“Not one like this,” Conner turned to Bob. “You’ve already emptied our pockets. Just give us the parts.”
Bob showed his hands, showing that there was nothing more that could be done. “No gun. No deal.”
S
etting her jaw, Naomi drew out her pistol.
Bob’s mouth fell open. Naomi removed the magazine and drew back the slide, ejecting the final bullet into her palm. She twirled the gun on her finger and clenched the barrel so that the handle pointed toward Bob. She extended it to him. “The money, the pistol, and everything but four water bottles. Final offer.”
Conner seemed none too pleased with the deal but kept his thoughts to himself. He hitched his thumb under his shotgun shoulder strap and kept his gaze down to the dirt. Calvin looked at the mechanic, pleading with his doe-like eyes behind his cracked glasses. Naomi stood firmly and kept the gun extended.
Bob scrutinized her. He wiped his right hand on his thigh, smearing the grey jumpsuit with engine grease. He reached out for the pistol. Naomi drew it up before he could grab it. “Parts first.”
Bob set his shoulders. After a moment, he vanished inside his workshop.
Calvin glared at Conner and spoke with hostile sarcasm. “Thanks for stepping up. My wife and I appreciate it.”
“I did my part,” Conner replied, returning Calvin’s glare. “Look at it this way, now we all share ownership and responsibility for the Rover.”
Naomi’s stomach knotted. She did not like that idea.
By Calvin’s hostile silence, neither did he.
Bob returned a few moments later with a milk crate full of parts. Much to Bob’s annoyance, Calvin inspected each one of them thoroughly. After a few long minutes of mumbling to himself and shining the parts in the light, Calvin came to the conclusion that these would suffice. Naomi made the exchange, telling him not to load the weapon until they were far away. Bob begrudgingly accepted.
A lot lighter on food and protection but heavily weighed down by a half-dozen metal parts, Naomi, Calvin and Conner began their twelve-mile trek back to the rest stop.
It went dark too early and the wind worked against them. None of them wanted to stop for the night, but they didn’t have any other options. They checked car doors, finally opening up an ambulance. It seemed like a good find until they noticed the blood splashed on the floor.
They looked for greener pastures in a wooden panel station wagon. They brushed aside the kids’ toys and dropped down the back seat. With no heat and the wind too violent to start a fire outside, they had to rely on the each other’s body heat. Calvin was opposed to the idea, even up to the point when he snuggled against Naomi’s back while she pressed against Conner’s back. They turned off the lantern but kept their eyes open. They stunk of body odor and smoke, and the car parts filled the stale wagon air with the smell of oil and old metal.
Naomi thought back to the Dark Ages and wondered if the peasants ever got used to each other’s stench or if they just learned to ignore it.
The next morning, they awoke freezing, hungry, and miserable. Calvin took the crate while Conner led with the shotgun. Naomi stayed in the middle, falling back occasionally to offer to help Calvin with the load. He refused every time.
“You don’t have to impress me,” Naomi said, dragging her feet beside him.
Calvin straightened his back and got a better grip on the box. “You’re my wife. You’re the only person I have to impress,” he heaved onward.
Chuckling weakly, she followed after him.
By midday, they were almost ready to give up. The walk was too long, too painful, and grew rapidly slower the longer they stayed on their sore feet. They had blisters on their heels and a debilitating hunger making hollow shapes in their stomachs. It had been two hours since they spoke to each other, so boredom was just another force bearing down on them.
“When I get to Allen’s, I’m going to sleep for a week,” Calvin said dryly.
“Hot baths. Hot meals. Warm beds.” Naomi listed some of the perks.
“Good company.” Calvin gave Naomi lusty eyes and raised and lowered his brows multiple times.
She returned his lover’s gaze before continuing the list. “Sturdy walls, privacy, headache medicine--Did I mention hot baths?”
Conner, the most psychically adept of the three, slowed down and turned his head back to Naomi. “Sounds like your brother has it all.”
“He’s been prepared for nearly ten years,” Naomi explained. “The last time I saw his cabin was… when did we go down there, Cal?”
“Seven years ago,” Calvin answered.
Naomi remembered now. “Yeah, he’d just finished building the cabin then. He hadn’t begun to dress the yard.”
“You trust him then?” Conner asked.
“With my life,” Naomi said assuredly.
Conner said nothing, keeping his eyes forward.
A wry smile appeared on Naomi’s face. “Besides, if I can’t get any water from him. I’ll just take yours.”
Conner faked a smile.
Her joke didn’t land the way she wanted it to.
They reached the rest stop after dark. It took two times as long to get back than to go there. Through the glass windows, they saw the golden glow of a small fire. Conner knocked on the door. “It’s me, Dean! Open up!”
After a long moment of silence, the front door unlocked. Dean held it open. With an expressionless face, he ushered them inside.
Carmela, Becca, Trinity, and Fergus warmed their hands around a small fire at the center of the rest stop building. The smoke escaped the barricaded door.
Trinity gave Calvin a hug. Becca waved at them. Fergus coughed as he gestured for Conner to come over and hug him. Cathleen glared. She spoke spitefully. “I guess you didn’t decide to leave us after all.”
“Mom, chill out.” Becca said.
“You shut your mouth,” Cathleen said bitterly.
Becca downcast her eyes in submission.
Cathleen fumed. She directed her hostility to Naomi. “You were supposed to be back last night. We’re freezing to death in here. Where were you?”
Naomi replied calmly, “Walking back.”
“You should’ve been running instead of leaving your daughter here to die in the cold. What kind of mother are you?”
Naomi fought back her anger. The lack of food, sleep, and fatigue made that very difficult. She hid her clenched fists in her jacket pockets and spoke slowly. “We’ll have the engine fixed tomorrow and we’ll be on the road by the afternoon. We should reach Allen’s place before dark.”
“Why can’t we fix it now?” Cathleen complained.
Calvin put down the milk crate loudly. “It’s too dark out. We’ll do it tomorrow.”
Cathleen huffed and went back to hovering her hands over the fire.
Naomi mouthed a thank you to Calvin.
Dean sat next to Cathleen. Together, they silently watched the fire dance.
Fergus whispered something into Conner’s ear. He nodded and straightened up. He turned to Naomi. “Could you come over here for a second?”
Naomi walked that way with a question on her face.
Conner smiled wearily at her. “Dad wants to thank you. He says the antibiotics are really working.”
“Glad to help,” Naomi said. She smiled at them briefly and turned back to the dried fruit waiting for her by the fire.
Fergus snatched her wrist. Naomi went tense. As quick as a camera strobe, her mind flashed back to Philly. A mugger did the same thing, only he held a knife to her belly with his other hand. Fergus noticed her alarm and let go. Naomi glared at him.
The old man spoke. His words had a raspy tone to them, as if they were blowing through a throat of flaky sandpaper. “Do you have more medicine I can have, beautiful?”
Naomi wrinkled her brow. “I already gave you a bottle.”
Conner smiled apologetically. “Dad was hoping you could give him an extra one in case he needs another.”
Naomi hesitated. She thought of Allen and then she smiled, her normal, homely, kind smile. “Certainly.”
“Thank you,” Conner said.
Fergus mumbled a thank you too.
Naomi walked a few steps before stopping. She breathed in d
eeply and turned back. “Fergus. Don’t ever touch me again, please.”
The two men stood in bewilderment. Naomi smiled sweetly and went back to dinner.
By the fourth morning since the escape from Philly, dark circles and deep lines underlined everyone’s eyes. They slogged their way back to the Rover. It had a nice coat of snow on top of it.
Conner and Calvin worked under the hood while Naomi opened up the map and began to look for the best route to Grave Mills. The highways were quicker but more congested. The back roads were easy to navigate, but also easier to get lost in. She warmed her hands with her breath as she thought about it.
Two hours later, Calvin had the car all fixed up. He told Naomi to turn the key. She held her breath and twisted the key in the ignition. The vehicle rumbled to life. Naomi couldn’t contain her smile. Calvin chuckled. Trinity and Becca hugged each other. Conner looked over the engine with pride. Cathleen rested her head on Dean’s shoulder.
Naomi surrendered the wheel to Calvin. She offered to co-pilot but fell fast asleep within minutes. The heater was the most pleasant thing in the world. She balled herself up and let herself dream. She expected to be at Allen’s by the time she awoke.
4
Gatekeeper
An inky black filter painted Naomi’s dream. It was cold, numb, and suffocating, as if she trapped in a box six feet underground.
Someone called her name.
Her eyes opened to her husband. His head and greasy short dark hair were silhouetted in front of the early afternoon sunset. He slid his fractured glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Look.”
Naomi glanced out of the window. Large, clump-like snowflakes rained down upon cattle pastures and horse farms. White hills rolled into one another like soft ocean waves. Cloaks of snow dressed clusters of trees. The sight took Naomi back to her childhood. She had no fear then. She didn’t have to worry about tomorrow, the clothes she’d wear, or things she’d eat. She knew her parents would provide. As a full-time worker and mother, it was a foreign feeling, almost too good to be true. The snowy farms were so simple. So welcoming. Far beyond, she saw the ridges of tall mountains overtaken by dense woods. Naomi recognized them: the Shenandoah Valley. Home.
Aftermath (Book 1): Aftermath Page 4
