by L. L. Akers
Hordes of people were walking in groups and many were alone along the highway. They walked on the road more times than not. Several had jumped out of his way just in time to avoid a bloody collision and Larry had hit the horn so much that Gabby was suffering with a near-blinding headache. At this point, it would probably be faster to walk, if only Olivia had some walking shoes.
A sign for a rest area came up and Gabby pointed it out, hoping Larry would take her up on her offer of sharing her Monkey Butt, and she and the girls could also find somewhere to relieve themselves. Assuming they’d be home soon, they’d all drank a bottle of water to re-hydrate. Gabby was also hoping for a hand-pump to fill their bottles up with before getting back on the road; she’d seen them at rest areas before.
Larry swerved into the parking lot amidst another wave of people.
The situation was even worse here.
The ladies looked around as Larry slowly drove through.
“This is creepy,” Emma said. “Looks like the walking dead.”
“Yeah, let’s just keep going,” Gabby answered.
Larry shrugged. “We’re here now. We won’t stay long.”
Refugees who had probably been on their way to or from the beach, just trying to eke out enough miles to get to the next exit for available gas were camped out in cars, tents, or tarps thrown over tree branches. Clothes hung from branches and trash littered the grounds. Hundreds of people were laying in the tents, under the tarps or just on the grass. Small campfires dotted the landscape. At a glance, anyone could see the people were tired, hungry, thirsty and downright dirty.
Gabby could feel desperation in the air. This wasn’t a happy crowd at all, but for the most part they looked like a harmless band of gypsies.
So far.
And there wasn’t a hand-pump for water in sight.
They slid into a parking spot beside an SUV that was obviously being used as housing. The back door was up for airflow, and blankets and pillows were haphazardly arranged inside. Two small children lay curled around each other in the back, asleep. Their mother and father were kicked back in the front seats, their legs tangled together on the dash, with all the windows down.
Larry climbed out the car, stretching and rubbing behind him, trying to bring blood back to his flat ass. He caught Gabby staring at him. “How’s it look?” He waggled an eyebrow at her.
She gave him a look of disgust. “Flat as a fritter from where I’m standing.”
He laughed it off and grabbed the talc from the floor. “Y’all stay with the car. I’ll be right back,” he said, adjusting his junk before he swaggered off.
“Take your time, not mine,” Gabby mumbled, marveling at his rudeness. What ever happened to ladies first?
She gazed around the make-shift campsites, suddenly noticing several men standing up, giving them the dirty eyeball. Two out of the largest group slowly made their way toward them.
“Emma, reach into my bag and get the gun,” she whispered. “If anyone tries to take the car, we need to be ready.”
Olivia was still sitting in the back seat looking at their highlighted route on the map that was paper-clipped to a picture of her and Gabby standing arm in arm in front of Jake’s truck, Ruby. She looked up in alarm. “Who’s going to try to take the car?” she asked loudly.
“Shhh!” Gabby flashed wide eyes at her and jerked her head toward the men.
Emma dug through and pulled out the gun, stepped up beside Gabby and discreetly slid it to her. “Here, you take it.”
Gabby pushed it into the waistband at the back of her pants and stared back at the men defiantly. “If they try to take it, you both know what to do.”
“Fight like a man,” Emma whispered.
Olivia stepped up beside her sisters, more out of curiosity than bravery.
The men approached to within hearing distance when Gabby yelled, “Stop right there.”
“Gabby! Don’t be rude,” Olivia admonished her. “Maybe they just want to talk.”
“Shut up, Olivia. This is not the time for strangers to just want to talk. We’ve got a working car. They don’t,” she answered.
All three of the men looked mean, exhausted and angry.
One spoke up, “How much gas do you have?”
Gabby slid over far enough to hopefully block their view from the five-gallon jug sitting in the middle of the back seat. The rest were in the trunk. “Not much. Enough for a few more miles, probably, before we’re walking,” she lied. “How about you all? Is everyone stuck here?”
“Yeah, no. We just like living in a rest area,” he answered sarcastically and then sighed and rubbed his hands over his face in desperation. “Look, we got kids. Lots of them, and they’re in no shape to walk.”
There were dozens of kids, and they did look lethargic and weak. Kids didn’t normally lay down in the middle of the day on road trips. They ran, played, and laughed. Life was usually one big game to them, regardless of the situation. But everywhere they could see, these kids were huddled up on dirty blankets and pillows, or laying with their heads in their mother’s laps on the ground, or in cars.
They couldn’t help them all. They might be able to squeeze one or two in between them, but they’d need a bus to move this many children. Gabby nodded. “I understand. But like I said, we’ve only got enough to get a little farther down the road, and then we’ll be parked and stuck too, and we’ll be walking. I’m sorry we can’t help you.”
“Got any water?”
“No.”
“Any food?”
Gabby looked at Emma. She nodded and reached into the car, pulling out Gabby’s backpack. She dug through it, pulling out random food stuff.
The men hurried forward.
“No! Stop where you are. We’ll throw it over to you,” Gabby insisted, pulling out the gun and letting it hang beside her in full view, ready to aim.
Not surprisingly, they listened.
As Gabby kept a close eye on the men, Emma and Olivia threw the food; a bag of gorp, a can of spam, and a few energy bars. They gave them everything they could quickly find.
Larry wandered up just as they finished passing the food over. “What’s going on?”
Gabby stepped in close to speak to him, cringing at his breath. “These guys were asking about the car and gas. We can’t help them, but we gave them some food.”
“Yeah. Hell no, I can’t help ‘em. Let’s go,” he whispered, his eyes darting all over in fear.
“Uh… what about us, Larry? We need to use the… we need to pee,” Gabby whispered.
Olivia stepped up to whisper too, “I can’t wait another mile. Look at that end over there. Let’s drive that way as though we’re leaving and get away from this crowd, but then we can pull over and hurry into the woods and back. It’ll only take a few minutes.”
On the exit ramp leaving the rest area, there were only a few vehicles, looking long-abandoned, and only two women were in that area, far away from the group. They were laying down under a tree and appeared to be asleep. It was a good plan.
Or good enough.
Larry sighed as though it was a huge inconvenience, ignoring the fact he’d also needed and had taken a pit stop. “Alright, but you girls better hurry,” he grumbled.
They piled back into the car and slowly drove to the other end, almost to the on-ramp to re-enter the interstate. Larry pulled over and the girls jumped out. Gabby grabbed her bag and seeing her map and picture had slid to the floor, she snatched those up too and slid them into her back pocket.
“Why are you taking all that just to go pee?” he asked.
“Toilet paper,” she snapped at him, and then turned to run behind her sisters to the nearby stand of trees. The truth was, she didn’t trust him.
The two women lying near the trees weren’t asleep after all. Clothes torn and dirty, and hair in knots, they were in terrible shape. They wore low-cut shirts and too-tight shorts with strappy, high heels. They both gripped their arms just below an angry-re
d mark on their shoulders, like a fresh burn, in the shape of the number “2.”
The women were clearly prostitutes, yet they cast narrowed and judging eyes upon Gabby and her sisters.
One of the ladies shook her head in disgust as they ran by, and Gabby wondered what that was all about, but it was too late. Her bladder had anticipated relief and she was on a countdown at the moment. She hurried to catch up with Olivia and Emma.
If only they’d heard the words thrown at them as they ran by, they might have stopped and avoided the disaster about to come their way.
“Ass, grass, or gas…” the woman called after them.
16
Jake
Jake skid to a stop at the closed gate to QualPro Auto & Marine, a local repair shop that shared property with a used car and marine dealership—both owned by the same guy. He jumped off the 4-wheeler, and made his way around the closed gate to the door. The shop was less than five miles from his house, and if he was going to be stuck out a Grayson’s for any period of time, he’d need something to do to keep busy, and he needed his own truck anyway. One more part and Ruby would be ready to roll.
He scanned the parking lot as he walked. What the heck? He took it all in as he reached for the door handle.
“Stop right there,” a female voice barked out.
Jake stopped abruptly and whipped around, looking for the voice.
Most of the cars from the front lines had been pulled into the middle of the lot into a haphazard cluster, barely seen behind the wall of boats that surrounded them. On top of an old Pontoon boat was a woman, laying prone on the sun deck behind a deer rifle mounted on a tripod, hair tucked beneath a camo-colored ball cap. Even from this distance, Jake could see one big blue eye opposite the other eye hovering behind the scope. He caught a glimpse of her jet-black pony-tail riding behind the cap.
It was Rena, Nick’s girlfriend and office manager.
“We’re closed! What do you need?”
“Where’s Nick?” Jake asked.
“Right here,” a deep voice boomed from a few boats over.
A hand waved from the cabin window in the belly of a cuddy cabin, long enough for Jake to see it, and then pulled back in. “Like she said, we’re closed, unless you’re trading. You looking to swap in that 4-wheeler?”
Jake squinted at the face in the window, seeing nothing but the short salt & pepper-colored beard and dark sunglasses, but it was definitely Nick. He shook his head. “Naw, man. I’m just here to pick up the part for my truck.”
“Unless you got something other than money to trade for it, I ain’t open for business. I’ll take food, ammo, gas or guns. Or the 4-wheeler, like I said.”
“Trade? I already paid for the part. It’s me…Jake. That part is for my ’57 Chevy. You said it’d be here a week ago. I just got around to getting here.”
There was a long pause during which Jake spotted one of Nick’s mechanics, sitting portside of another boat, still as a statue, with a long-gun pointed Jake’s way. A rustle of fabric drew his eye to yet another mechanic, who up until now had been quiet as a mouse standing in the back of a 4x4 truck, gun resting on the top of the cab—again, pointed at Jake.
Jake slowly raised his hands against the four guns pointing at him. “What’s going on here, Nick? Why you got all your cars and boats jammed in together like that? And what’s with the sniper patrol? You see some trouble already?”
Jake spoke to the boat he’d glimpsed Nick in, but the window was empty. A few thumps later and Nick jumped out onto the concrete, swinging his rifle to let it hang from the strap behind his shoulder. “Yeah dude, I’m sorry. I forgot all about you already having paid for that part. I got it for you. All hell has been breaking loose. This is the first break I’ve had from looky-loos, criminals and assholes trying to get a’ hold of one of my cars for nothing. Everybody needs gas and they’re hoping my cars and boats are all filled up. Their cars are broke down all over town.”
“They all running?” Jake asked.
“Hell yeah, they ran. Not many men will stand still with a woman pointing a rifle at ‘em!”
Jake laughed. “No, I meant the cars. They’re all gassed up?”
Nick shrugged. “They’re not all full, if that’s what you’re asking. If a person was to siphon all the gas, they’d probably get more than a few tanks out of it. But everybody seems to think I’m giving my shit away for free,” he grumbled as he approached the door, jumbling his keys around to find the right one. “They’d just as soon take one and drive it as far as it’ll go.”
He led Jake into the shop and walked behind the counter. Jake stepped up as he had dozens of times and there was his part, sitting right on top with ‘1957 Chevy Truck’ scribbled on the box; Nick was his go-to person for parts for just about anything, as well as who Jake himself used for car repairs and oil changes for Gabby’s car. He’d stopped doing it himself years ago when he and Gabby started making enough money to send it to the shop. The little bit of free time he got away from his own work as a mechanic, or time with Gabby, was better spent tinkering with Ruby or helping the family out on the farm. Both Grayson and Dusty brought their stuff to Nick too. Nick was pretty much the only mechanic the entire family trusted. He was downright cantankerous at times, but he was honest.
Just a few months ago, Grayson had mentioned Nick had finally sewed up a long battle of a divorce, which was the cause of most of his cantanker-isms. Twenty years with the she-devil had buried Nick under layers of stress and debt. Whoever had said it was cheaper to keep ‘er obviously hadn’t met Nick’s wife. As Nick ran his finger over the paperwork rack on the wall, Jake took stock of him. He’d lost a lot of weight. The divorce had dragged on for several years, leaving Nick wiry, weary and whiskery.
And then once that was buttoned up, he’d jumped right out of the fire and into the frying pan with Rena. At least five years younger and could be a howling hellcat, but at least this one had a heart of gold, ran the office like a well-oiled machine, and could also hunt, fish and turn a wrench, if she wanted or needed to. They were a good match.
The fact that Nick owned the place but more times than not wore a uniform and crawled up in and under things with or without his team earned him respect, with both his staff and his customers. He was a hell of a mechanic. Best in the state, the rumor was.
Jake’s eyes widened when he looked behind the counter. Four cardboard boxes crowded the space behind the register, stuffed with mostly canned goods; metal cans as well as glass jars of homemade preserved food. Colorful pickled vegetables, collard greens and jam and jellies caught his eye. Behind that row of boxes sat two more heaped high with miscellaneous things. Toilet paper, cigarettes and even a few bottles of liquor topped the heap.
Seven five-gallon gas jugs stood sentry over the food as the final row.
“What’s all that for? You living here?” Jake nodded at the stuff.
“Trading here. At least until the last of the gas is gone. Two of us will be taking this stuff over to the house later,” Nick answered as he slid the part to Jake with a paper slip and pen for signing the receipt. Jake almost chuckled that he was still following office procedure when he and his staff were all outside, armed to the huckleberries, circling the wagons. Probably worried that Rena would have his hide if he skipped a step. Nick was the boss, but Rena ran a tight ship behind that counter.
Jake scribbled his name and slid the paper back to Nick. “You’ve been busy if you got all that in two days. So you’re not taking money at all?”
“I could have bought all that and more with the sale of one used car before the lights went out, and I wish like hell right now I would’ve. But no. I’m not taking cash. Ain’t nothing to buy with it. Stores are already bare bones. What good is it?”
Jake shrugged. “It looks like you’re all set for a while anyway.”
Nick shook his head. “Nope. That won’t last long. I didn’t have much at the house when the lights went out. Grocery store was wiped out the first da
y the power was gone. Gas stations aren’t pumping anymore. I got plenty of money and nowhere to spend it. I wish I’d listened to your brother-in-law when he’d talk about all that being prepared shit. I did get lucky. I got something people need right now. But hell, what I’ve gotten in return so far won’t last us a month. Rena and I are feeding my boy, too.” He shrugged his shoulders. “We need numbers, though. Can’t get no damn sleep if there’s only two of you, even if Rena is a hell of a shot.”
“You already had trouble out at the house, too?” Jake asked, concerned. Nick lived ten miles from him, but closer to town.
“Hell yeah we have. Bunch of damn rednecks came looking for food last night. They left rather quick-like, especially considering they probably had a bit of buckshot in their asses for their trouble. But they’ll be back, or more of ‘em. It ain’t safe nowhere near town.”
Jake nodded. He wouldn’t head back to the house. It would just be a waste of gas. If trouble had already found Nick’s neighborhood, it wouldn’t be long until it found his. He trusted Tucker would be on top of it. He was heading straight to Grayson’s place. He’d just have to get the 4-wheeler back later.
As though Nick read his mind, he said, “Say, how’s Grayson doing out at his place? I know he’s prepared. And he’s far enough out there it’ll take a while before he sees company. But when he does,” Nick shook his head again. “He got numbers to watch his six?”
Jake wasn’t positive, but felt pretty sure it was just Grayson there right now. However, it wasn’t his place to invite anyone, nor did he want anyone to know they might not have enough protection, even if it was Nick, whom they all knew and liked.
“Yeah. He’s got a house full. Bunch of buddies, plus Dusty. You know Dusty is a cop, right? He brought some of his crew with him, too.”
