"Do you think tents are really necessary?" Richie asked Benny, who had insisted on getting the things.
"Look," Benny began, "I don't want to look over and see one of you pricks jerkin' your gherkin'. Also, if it's cool enough to sleep outside we'll need some cover."
"If the sun gets worse, I doubt a tent is going to do much for you," Richie said after a moment.
Benny held one of the boxes up, close to Richie's face. He flinched backward, trying to avoid having his nose pressed into the packaging as his friend pointed out a marking on the box.
"UV resistant," Benny read aloud.
"You're an idiot," Buddy declared with a shake of his head, "It's not gonna' keep the sun out, Benny. That just means the tent wouldn't have rotted away in it back when the sun wasn't trying to kill us."
"How do you know Buddy? You think you’re so smart."
"Take one if you want to, man, but I'm not helping you carry it."
"Me neither," Elvis agreed.
"Suit yourselves," Benny said, dragging one of the bulky things off to the side.
The other three men watched as Benny tried a couple of different tactics of packing the six-person tent. The thing was the size of a house from the look of the illustration on the box it'd been packed into. Elvis, bored with watching Benny's tent fondling, went back to their supplies and picked out a backpack. He began to fill it with things he knew they would need.
"What do you think we should do for food?" Richie asked Buddy.
"Canned goods are probably too heavy, but there isn't much else that I can think of. There should be places to forage along the road, right?"
"As long as we stay away from Alligator Alley. There's like a fifty-mile stretch of nothing there."
"Yeah. We're going to have to watch that. Any road with empty runs like that could get us caught out."
"I've been trying to find the best routes," Richie told him, "But it's going to be trial and error on a lot of it. We'll need to think everything through."
"Well, that's why we're bringing you, egghead."
"Because the other option is for you and Benny running off to Vegas with Elvis as your witness to matrimony?"
"Fuck you, Richie," Buddy retorted with a grin.
"No way. Benny might get jealous after the wedding and all that."
The two of them joined Elvis, skirting around a cursing Benny, and began to pack.
Chapter 3
Valdez, AK
September 2, 2021
2:51 AM 75*
Amanda had begun to stir, which was a great sign as far as Richie was concerned. It would almost be a miracle if she'd wake up and interrupt his weird conversations with dead friends. Talking aloud to them was probably the only thing keeping him going, though it was still disconcerting to tell his story to people who had been there and weren't anymore.
It's the same as just talkin' about it, Elvis said as if arguing for Richie's sanity instead of against it.
Better than talking to that wet-end, Buddy, Benny said in agreement.
"I have to admit it, Benny. You’re better company now than when you were alive."
Screw you, Benny replied against the sound of Elvis' chuckling.
"You guys remember how much crap we had piled up in front of that store? We had every camping gizmo ever invented scattered on the ground and we barely took any of it with us."
I can't believe you guys gave me so much shit about my tent.
You didn't need no tent, Benny. It was stupid.
So what! It would've been nice to have some privacy!
"I can deal with you two being in my head. I can deal with talking to ghosts like a frigging crazy person. What I can't, and won't, deal with is you two arguing. Quit it."
The voices went still, allowing Richie a moment to himself. He took stock of his situation while he had the chance. Richie was tired, his legs burning with the combined weight of Amanda and his own weakened body, and would have to stop again before long. He could barely remember getting to his feet the last time and marked that up to his exhausted mind. Their time in the cannibal camp had been too long to have remained unscathed by those surroundings.
How'd you get there, Richie? I must've missed that one, Benny spoke up.
"I was stupid," Richie admitted, "I guess both of us were."
What do you mean?
"We took off from camp to look for medical supplies, very much against Buddy's preferences, and stumbled onto a group of feeders. Pretty simple."
No it's not, Elvis contradicted, Tell him the truth.
Richie's jaw tensed. He didn't want to talk about that just now. He wanted to make another couple of miles if it was possible, and find some place for the two living beings on this journey to hide for the day. Richie didn't have the smallest desire to tell his dead friends what had happened when he and Amanda were captured. It would be hard enough to tell Buddy when they finally got back to camp. He didn't care for telling it twice.
Well?
"Well, what?!?" Richie nearly shouted, "What do you want to hear? I fucked up!"
How, Richie?
"I knew that there was a group in the area and I didn't say anything! I didn't want to make things any worse than they were! We needed medicine and people were dying! What else was I supposed to do?"
Amanda tensed on his shoulders for a moment, shifting her weight and pulling Richie slightly off balance. He calmed a bit, thinking that she would soon rouse and that she didn't need to wake up to his insane ranting. He swallowed against the dryness of his throat and wished for water. Richie had hoped they would come across a lake by now, or a river for that matter.
"We were almost there when they caught us. Amanda and I have dealt with groups of feeders before, but the others hadn't. Two people were shot down and the two of us were taken prisoner. Like I said. It's simple."
How long were you guys there? Benny asked.
"Almost a month, I think. I'm not sure."
How'd you live, Richie? What'd you eat? Elvis baited.
Richie shook his head harder than he meant to. Elvis wasn't going to get him to talk about that, no matter how tired and weak he felt. Sure he was crazy now, but that didn't mean he had to say anything to his voices that he didn't want to.
To hell with what Elvis wanted. The real Elvis was dead and buried hundreds of miles away and Benny was even further back on the roads. Both of them could take a proverbial long walk off of a short pier for all he cared.
He heard Amanda's breathing smooth out. It had become labored at some recent point, but Richie hadn't been too worried about that. He'd thought it meant that she was close to coming out of her slumber. He couldn't know for sure if she would wake at all. For all he knew, she might be in a coma.
"Hey," Richie said, "Do you guys remember leaving Miami?"
Both voices admitted that they did.
<><><>
Miami, FL
June 22, 2020
1:58 AM 109*
There was no fanfare or heartfelt goodbyes for the four men as they left the city where all of them had spent their lives. People on the streets, even after dark, were scarce in these difficult days. If there'd been a crowd, it likely wouldn't have included many of their acquaintances.
There hadn't been many friendships for any of them outside of their core group, nor did they have anything left in the way of family. Elvis, the only one whose parent had lived at any point during the last two years, was the last of the faction who'd had ties to the city at all. When they left, no one looked back.
Richie had estimated that their traveling could go a bit faster if they left some of the items behind, carrying only what they really needed. Each man had a knife in his pocket, a canteen for water, and a backpack to carry any other gear he would need.
Benny had found a lock pick kit under the glass of a back counter, and Richie pocketed the thing in hopes that he could manage the use of it. Buddy carried a spade, mostly for digging out holes to use as a bathroom for their more
unmentionable needs. Elvis, ever the child at heart, had a slingshot hanging out of one pocket of his ruck.
"What are you going to do with that?" Benny had asked with his lips crunched together in a frown.
"Shoot you in the butt with it," Elvis replied sweetly.
They were all carrying firearms to go along with their survival gear. Buddy had insisted on that and Richie readily agreed. Guns were something he hadn't thought of at first, but he knew that ordnances would be needed.
Since the light had become seriously harmful, they'd all seen how humanity's less friendly members had started behaving. There was plenty of night time looting and fighting, but the violence of those altercations had increased drastically since people had started dying off at an increased rate. Life was becoming less valuable when it was in possession of someone else.
"Got the ball bearings?" Richie asked his friend.
"Yep," Elvis answered, "Tried marbles, but no good."
Buddy and Richie shared a grin. The thought wouldn't have occurred to either of them, but Elvis was resourceful in that way. He'd hunted the aisles of the store for his elastic-banded weapon and tested out different types of ammo with the interest of a scientist testing some startling discovery. They had no doubt that the sling would come in handy.
"Why not marbles?" Benny asked, actually sounding serious for once.
"They break," Elvis replied.
"So. You could just pick up more of them, right?"
"Maybe. Don't wanna' risk it. These'll do good."
"And if he shoots you in the ass," Buddy said, "the ball bearing can be used again."
"You calling me a tight-ass?"
All of them laughed. Richie continued to smile after the prodding and cackling died down, thankful that he had his friends with him on a trip like this. He realized, suddenly, that it wasn't just a trip. There would be no coming back for them after they found the destination upon which they had decided. This was a JOURNEY to somewhere that the four men had never been and would never return from. His smile faltered, but didn't vanish altogether. He still had the most important people in his life along for the ride. That would make almost anything bearable in the face of such a trek.
Their footsteps were like thunderclaps in the silence of the night as they walked to the north.
<><><>
"What do we have for food stuff?" Benny asked as they settled into a small concrete storage building to wait out the day.
They'd found the structure just off of the Hollywood exit, not long before sunrise. After
circling the place for a bit, Buddy deemed it safe enough. It had taken ten solid minutes to bust the door knob off and get into the structure. Richie hadn’t even tried the picks.
Once inside, the atmosphere served as a reward for their efforts. It was musty and slightly cooler than the outside world, having no windows through which sunlight could penetrate its walls. Spider webs littered the corners, but there weren't any other signs of their makers scurrying about.
"Want to set up your tent, Benny?" Buddy asked with a smirk.
He was given the finger for his question and laughed heartily in return. There was barely room in the building for sleeping bags and people, let alone space for a large tent.
Richie was rifling through the canned food they'd brought along, looking for the simplest things that didn't need to be cooked. He came up with four cans of Vienna sausages and handed them out. For once, there was no debate. They'd walked twelve miles of road with extra weight hanging against their backs. It didn't matter what they were eating, just that they got something in their stomachs.
Benny stared at the slimy pork sausage before allowing it to pass his lips. His expression was priceless, though Buddy didn't have the energy to remark on it. Elvis couldn’t have emptied the can into his mouth and swallowed the things more quickly if given a funnel. Richie, the great anticipator of their group, tried to take his time, biting off small pieces and chewing them slowly.
When he was finished, long after the others had consumed their meal, Richie looked into the can, realizing how much fluid was at the bottom of it. He looked at Elvis, shrugged, and drank the greasy stuff. Buddy was appalled by the action, but Elvis copied his friend's action without remark. Buddy might have been disgusted, but the reasoning was obvious. He grimaced dramatically and drank his own, retching at the end of it. Benny did not look pleased.
"What the hell? That's horrible. Why would you do that?"
"How much water do you have, Benny?" Richie asked once he'd stowed the can in his pack. Leaving anything behind, even trash, seemed like a bad idea.
"Half a canteen, which is why I don't have to drink that crap."
"Do you know when we'll get water next?"
"Well... No."
"Which is why we drank it," Buddy explained, mocking Benny's earlier tone.
"I'm pretty sure I'd rather die of thirst," Benny commented.
"Do what you want," Elvis said, shoving his own empty can into the ruck he'd been shouldering all night.
Richie wondered, right then, if they were being too hard on Benny.
He'd never really grown up, had continued to live with his parents long after high school was done, so hadn't needed to think for himself very much. Benny might have been better off staying behind, even if death was the other option. Wasn't it possible that he would find something worse out on the road with them? Richie couldn't know for sure, but he could speculate as much as he wished. It was, after all, his mind.
In later days Richie would miss the luxury of being alone in his thoughts.
They took their positions, arranged so that each man had a foot of space between himself and the next. Buddy stayed in a sitting pose, keeping watch over them until he felt too tired to stay awake and alert. Soon, all four men were sleeping, the temperature slowly rising in the small building until each of them was sheened in sleep sweat.
They woke sporadically, the heat making slumber difficult, but still managed enough rest to get through the next night’s activity. As a group, they decided that finding underground quarters might be the best thing for their comfort. It would prove a difficult task, but also a prudent one.
"As it gets worse out," Buddy commented, "we may not have much choice in the matter."
"Yeah," Elvis agreed, counting his steps as they walked down the darkened road, "Might have to always be under."
Richie said nothing, allowing silence to act as his accord as Benny whined about how difficult it would be to find a place like that every night. No one told him to be quiet, but no one participated in the conversation, either. They were all too tired for it.
<><><>
St. Petersburg, FL
July 11, 2020
7:36 PM 116*
The ocean at dusk was both tragic and beautiful. Though the last seems an overused phrase, Richie could think of no other to fit. Tragic and beautiful.
"I don't care, man. The gulf is always cooler than the Atlantic. That's a rule," Benny told all of them, "And if you think otherwise, look it up on your phone."
That got a laugh. The cell services had long stopped working by that point. It was a regrettable fact, but a fact nonetheless, and now seemed more humorous than anything.
They walked toward the Gulf of Mexico, reminiscing about the gadgets everyone had occupied themselves with for so long. Even Buddy, the reader of endless paperbacks, had found uses for them. Elvis was quiet, thinking of Pac-Man on Buddy's massive smartphone and grinning about all of the fun he'd had with it.
The sand was ridiculously hot, having baked all day in the sun, but Elvis was gripped by an exhilaration that he couldn't repress. He kicked his boots off without warning and ran toward the water's edge, thinking of the times his mother had sat on a blanket and watched as he swam around in the Atlantic.
She would always yell at him to stay where she could see, from the time he was a child up until the last day they'd spent on the sand just a few years before. He didn't take pause to think
of the times when people would flock to the beach in order to lay in the sun that they so feared now. It was time to swim and feel cooler than he had in such a long time.
Richie lost sight of Elvis, choosing instead to focus on the water. There was something not-quite-right about the white caps that rushed toward the shore. The movement of it was too consistent, to uniformed for his liking. He thought about white caps on the ocean and how they happened for the briefest of moments before realizing what his concern actually was. His eyes expanded in alarm.
"No! Elvis stay back!" he shouted, but saw that he was too late to stop his manic friend.
Richie ran, the quiet tranquility of the empty beach instantly shattered by Elvis' screams of pain. His companion jerked back, falling onto his backside before Richie could get to him. Buddy and Benny were behind him, their booted feet pounding the sand, digging pits in the stuff, as they ran.
He saw that Elvis was clutching his left foot in both hands. The man’s screaming had given way to heavy sobs, but it didn't seem that his pain had lessened. The view of his foot was a gruesome one.
"You okay man?" Richie asked, stupidly, before tossing his pack onto the sand.
Elvis didn't respond. He was too busy cradling his foot and trying to push himself further from the surf. He only turned to look at his friends when Benny put both hands on his shoulders.
"Give me the burn cream," Richie commanded, holding an empty hand out to Buddy.
"For what?" Buddy asked as he searched through Richie's dropped pack, "How did he get burned?"
"It's the fucking water, Buddy," Benny said, seemingly the only one with sense enough to hold Elvis still and speak at the same time, "It's not rough. It's boiling."
Richie nodded his agreement, finally catching hold of the cream. He squeezed a glob of the stuff onto one palm and reached toward Elvis, who was still too shaken to know what was going on. Richie started to shout at him, his worry overcoming the need to calm his friend, but didn't have to.
Walking Back (The Dark Roads Book 2) Page 3
