Amy waited until he was a dozen feet ahead before she followed. Jessica and Maggie trailed behind him. Amy held back and let them stay in front of her as she walked. She did not allow herself to glance back at the van until they crossed over a small creek. As she looked down at the stream of muddy water, she turned her head back to see the van, diminutive and derelict in the distance. Tears fell from her eyes. They had made it so far, lost so much, now they were walking into an uncertain future. The pace her father moved at was too slow. She could see that he did not have the strength to make it far.
“Let’s stop here for a minute, let me catch my breath,” Evan said. He spoke through panting gasps.
“Up ahead.” Jessica raised her hand and pointed forward.
“Yeah, I saw it.”
Amy moved past them as they stood on the yellow lines looking ahead, she walked until she could read the words on the sign. She intended to go back to join them. The look on her mother’s face made her change her mind. She sat down, knees drawn to her chest, and waited for them to catch up to her. With her eyes closed, she could make out the sound of each one’s footsteps. Loud sounds of steel hitting the blacktop from her father’s crutch counted off his progress. At the rate they were traveling, it would be dark before they made it another two miles. She knew her father could not continue on foot.
He told them his plan during the cold night in the van. Evan said they would find another vehicle. He rattled off promises and a string of optimistic rambling. Amy snuggled up to her mother and sister. She ignored her father’s descriptions of how they would move forward. He lied before, and it made sense he would again. Each time he did someone she loved would die.
With less than a mile traveled, the sun was higher in the morning sky. Jessica worried about her husband’s ability to continue. She looked at her youngest child, brushing the hair from the girl’s eyes with her hand. Amy walked beside her, head hanging down, watching her shoes step along the road.
Soon they were standing and looking at a rest area with campgrounds, several scorched camping trailers sat upon the wooded hill above them. No vehicles were visible, and only one of the half dozen trailers remained unburned. Evan glanced at his family to gauge their reaction. After studying the surrounding area for possible hiding spots, he pulled the pistol from his belt and hobbled to the edge of the road.
“You wait here,” he said. “I’m going to check it out.”
He spoke over his shoulder. Amy stepped in front of him and held her hands up to stop him.
“You can’t, you’re too slow. I’ll check it out.”
She extended her hand and waited for him to give her the gun. He pulled back from her while he held it behind his body.
“No. You can’t, it’s too dangerous.”
“I handled myself just fine when your brother died yesterday.”
She stared upward into his eyes. Her hand remained held out, waiting for the weapon. Evan looked down at his bandaged leg and then to his wife, her expression was of concern as she nodded her head. He knew Amy was right, he could not walk and running would be impossible. His shoulders slumped as he exhaled. Amy’s father looked at the gun in his hand before he turned it around and placed the handle into her outstretched fingers. Evan smiled at his daughter as she checked to see if it was loaded.
“Be careful. Please?”
“I know what I’m doing.”
She made her voice sound lower than normal to imply she was not afraid. Evan and Jessica stood together, watching their oldest daughter walk into the tree line. Her body disappeared as she walked through the thick underbrush and reappeared from behind large hardwood trees. She wove a cautious path as she circled around the campground. The rumble of thunder made her pause and look back at them.
Amy held her breath as she waited for the noises to subside from overhead. There was deep silence, and nothing stirred. She waited, looking for any movement before she crept closer to the undamaged camper trailer. Long minutes passed as she knelt beside it, her ear pressed to the cold metal, listening for any sound of people inside. After what felt to her like an eternity, she crawled toward the only door of the small camper. She held her breath and opened it. The sound of the weather-stripping as it pulled free from the long shut door caused her to hesitate. She took another deep breath and summoned her courage. Amy stood upright and swung the door wide open. No deranged person charged forward. There were no shouts of anger. The only thing that escaped was air that smelled stale and musty.
Inside she found a pile of clothes on the floor surrounded by empty crushed cardboard food boxes. The cabinets were open and bare. Other hands had rummaged for anything of use. She tried the faucet at the small sink and nothing came out. A few cobwebs hung from the ceiling. There was a folded newspaper lying on the small counter. Empty but useful, she thought. Amy stepped from the door and waved for her family to come to the trailer.
She sat down on the bench of a nearby picnic table, watching as they climbed the small driveway. Her father’s face was red, he sounded winded. Maggie did not want to go inside the unlit camper, protesting with her shaking head. Jessica opened the curtains and the small window at the front to let it air out. Evan sat at the table across from Amy, letting his left leg rest on the bench, sweat beaded on his brow. His hands trembled as he let the pack slide from his shoulder.
“I’m sorry. I just can’t—”
“Evan, why don’t you come in and lay down?” Jessica called to him from the metal doorway.
He nodded his head and watched his wife disappear inside to some chore she had found for herself. The weakness showed in the way he moved, his actions seemed feeble. He stood and propped himself against the crutch as he rubbed his eyes with a trembling hand.
“Amy.” He spoke as he leaned his body forward to meet her eyes.
“Yes.”
“I know you’re angry with me. I did the best I could.” His calm speech lowered in tone. “I loved your brother Drew so very much. I loved my brother also. Things happened that I couldn’t have foreseen. And I need you to know, I’m so sorry for it.”
She looked at him with a glare, her head shook as she crossed her arms in front of her chest. He smiled and sighed at her response. He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out the remaining rounds for the pistol. They jingled as he bounced his hand before he placed them on the dull gray wood table.
“I’m not going to make it much further. My leg is infected, and it’s only going to get worse. You’ll have to see after your mother and sister.” He tapped the wood with his finger to emphasize his point.
“We are almost there. You just need to rest is all. We’ll get a fresh start in the morning.” Amy studied his face, unsure of what he intended.
He smiled, shaking his head with gentle disagreement.
“No…no, I don’t think I’d be able to join you in the morning either. I need medicine and—”
“We’ll find some,” Amy said.
Her face was flush with quiet anger as hot tears streamed down her cheeks. Even though she was upset at him for what had happened, the thought of him not leading them scared her. She did not know what would happen to them. He was the one who gave the orders of what needed to be done. They followed his directions. It was easier that way. The reality of what was happening felt too much for her to handle. She feared losing him as well.
“No—” He held up his hand and stopped her from saying any more. “You will have to be brave for them. There is no time left for me. The infection is getting worse. Just take them south, get them there. Then y’all can be safe.”
She jumped from the table and ran to his side, burying her face into his chest as she hugged him. Hot tears flowed from her eyes and the jacket muffled her sobs. He put his arm around her, patting on her shoulder.
“We all die, Amy. I’m no different. Just be strong, look out for your mother and sister. And know that I love you very much. Now stop that crying before you upset your sister.”
She pulled from him an
d wiped her eyes. She said, “So that’s it? You’re just going to go in there…lay down and die?”
“It’s not what I want. Your mother knows I can’t go on. But I want y’all to be safe. I’ll only slow you down, I’m dead anyway. Better y’all don’t wait on me and go on, get to safety. Get to people who can help you.”
“We can find a way.” She pleaded with his smiling face.
“There is none.” He pulled away from her and limped to the camper.
Evan looked into the sky and took a deep breath of air. Jessica opened the door, grabbed the crutch, and helped him inside. She looked at Amy, the stark visage she wore was Amy’s confirmation it was too late. His injured leg prevented him from walking up the metal steps. He had to hop on his good leg to get inside. The sound of him bouncing into the doorway caused Amy to look around, fearful someone would hear. Once her father was in and tended to, her mother stepped back out and came to sit beside her on the bench.
“What did he say to you?”
She stroked her daughter’s black hair with her thin fingers. Amy spoke as she let out a deep sigh. Tears welled in her eyes again.
“That he was too sick to keep going…” Her voice died. Amy took a deep breath. She said, “He needs medicine, and we ain’t got any for him.”
They sat for some time and cried with each other, her mother pulled away only when Maggie came out of the camper. Amy tried to hold her close, wishing her to stay and comfort her. Jessica kissed her oldest daughter’s head and squeezed her hand before she stood. Maggie waited for her to come to the metal steps, arms outstretched, with a somber look in her eyes. The sound of thunder was getting closer. The air had the smell of rain hanging in it.
“Best come on in before the rain gets here, Amy.”
Amy nodded her head to show that she heard her mother. She stared up at the oyster shell sky and waited until it darkened. Her thoughts returned to her father, his plans, his mistakes, and his ultimate death.
He lied and we believed him.
She conceded to joining them inside the trailer after the air temperature made a noticeable change. Rain fell in a small drizzle and continued well into the night. Jessica and Amy took turns watching through the windows for danger while Maggie slept. The young child was ignorant of the family’s grim situation.
A slight tickle of jealousy worked at the back of Amy’s mind as she peered through the dirt coated window above the sink. She knew she saw a dying world lit by lightning flashes and understood what it meant for them all.
Maggie is the lucky one.
Evan developed a fever. Sweat poured from his head as he slipped into a fitful slumber. Jessica held a small cooking pot out the door to catch rainwater. She spent most of the night wiping his forehead with a wetted cloth while crying about her future as a widow.
12
The blond-haired man moved as fast as he could manage along the road. The hills came and went. His boot heels marked the progress with steady dull thumps on the blacktop. He stopped only when he needed to piss, which he often did on the yellow painted stripes. The man looked at his watch and to the road behind him to see if they still chased after. Every so often, he would catch just a glimpse of an arm, maybe the color of a shirt, as they ducked behind trees or into the cover of the bushes.
Tired of the travel, he fixed his mind to turn south when he reached a major highway that ran in that direction. He had moved east as far as he cared to. It offered him nothing, and he thought it would be better to head south toward the ocean. There he could eke out a living scrounging the beaches and fishing the waters for the rest of his days. The promise of easier foraging was too appealing to him. Fishing was something he loved to do as a child, but as a working man, he had little time to do it. Being a personal injury lawyer consumed all of his time. At least that was when the world was still standing upright and not slipping into ruins.
Ahead was an abandoned station wagon. It sat across both lanes on the road. He renewed a faster trot towards it and looked for the gang to see if they had noticed it as well. There was no tale-tell sound of voices behind him. He quickened his pace, hoping to get to it with enough time to check it out before they gained ground.
He grabbed the driver’s door handle and pulled. It broke off in his hand and caused him to fall. He rolled backward with his legs going upward into the air and landed face down. His knees slid across the rough asphalt. The roar of laughter from the trees on both sides incensed him as he stood up. He looked at the blood forming on the knees of his pants.
“Oh, you cocksuckers like that? You ignorant sons a bitches can kiss my ass.” He held up both hands, extended his middle fingers, and waved them back and forth. “Fuck you. Fuck all of you. Fuck each and every one of you worthless bastards.”
He walked back to the car, opened the rear door, and shook his head in disbelief. The back seat was full of empty cat food sacks and tangles of different colored yarn. Anger flared inside his head.
Who in the hell would bring so many empty sacks of feed? How goddamn dumb do you have to be? What were they going to do with them? Or did they actually eat all the cat food themselves?
He grabbed a handful of the mass and pulled it from the car. As he slung the empty paper sacks and strands of yarn across the road, he screamed in frustration. The laughs that came from the pursuing men only fueled his rage. The man looked at the keys still in the ignition. He crawled over the front seat and turned the switch to crank it. Nothing happened as he rotated the key forward. He tried to lift the hood, but the release was missing from the inside. In a sudden fit of fury, he got out of the car and hammered on the hood with his fists. He yelled incoherent curses before he gave up in disgust and stormed away from the vehicle. His boots slammed to the asphalt as he left, it would take time for his temper to cool.
He refused to look back for the longest while to see if the men still followed him. As he topped the first hill, he stopped to take a drink of water. His expression shifted when he noticed in the distance the opened hood of the station wagon. He spat onto the blacktop and turned to continue his walk in silent irritation.
Hours went by as he marched. He noticed the road he traveled bypassed a small town. The thought came to his mind to investigate for supplies, but he felt it better to keep walking the way he was going. Night would close in on him soon. He needed to find a place to camp and start a fire.
Big, bright, hot as hell. Keep ‘em away…
He walked past an old rusty tin-topped barn, the smell of decaying hay and aging manure hung around it like a spirit unwilling to depart. In the distant field, he could see a solitary black cow. Left behind and forgotten. Its owner must have fled the place, died, or had been killed. He thought about the animal as he continued past.
Would it remain within the fence until it grew old and died, content within the barbed wire prison, or would it ever think to try getting out?
The sun was lower in the sky. His shadow stretched before him, and he decided it was time to stop for the night. An overturned delivery truck lay in the ditch just out from a small grouping of trees. A search inside yielded only a half-pack of cigarettes and all the car parts he could never use. He gathered firewood, piled it beside the truck, and waited until he collected all he needed before he lit it. Using the pack of smokes as tender, he started his campfire. The flame burned the red and white wrapper. He wondered when he would burn.
We all burn. It’s the way to cleanse the sin from us. We all have to burn sometime. I will too.
Feelings of regret and sadness fell over him as he finished lighting his fire. He sat down beside the truck to watch the flames dance as they consumed the wood. The yellow and orange waves lulled him into a trance. His mind wandered to that day, the afternoon he found his wife. He pushed his knuckles into his eyes and took several rapid breaths to clear his head.
He leaned against the top of the truck and waited for a tin of sardines to warm. The man ate the small fish with greedy bites. They did not satisfy his hun
ger. He tossed the empty tin into the flames and ate another one cold. The fire warmed his feet while he tried to relax. He heard the sound of them and their heavy steps around the trees. The thought to shoot at their noise crossed his mind several times. Fear of wasting all of his rounds stopped him.
The night sky above grew darker as the last bit of gray light faded on the horizon. Soon the air became silent and left him to his memories. Despair, which he tried to drown with the last of the whiskey in the bottle, refused to leave him alone. A constant assault of memories pounded his mind. The more he struggled to stop thinking about them, the more they appeared. Sticks snapping and dead leaves rustling announced his unwelcome followers were still out there, waiting for him.
Why won’t they just leave me alone? Why must they chase after me?
The darkness beyond the fire kept them from sight. He removed the gun from the waist of his pants and held it above his head. He shouted into the black void beyond.
“You dumbasses want something to eat? I’ll give you a nice mouthful of hot lead.”
Loneliness would have been a treasured condition for him, the relentless pursuit was taking its toll.
May have been that it was their intentions all along. Wear me down. Wait until I break.
When they had come to chase him, he no longer remembered, it was forgotten as the countless days went by. Somewhere along the way, he had picked them up like ticks, and just like ticks, fire kept them from latching in. Days and nights flowed by. Still, they remained steadfast, chasing and waiting. It seemed too absurd to be his reality. Yet, the world had fooled him before so it would seem to reason it would do it again.
He lost track of time as he stared into the flames thinking of her. His cherished wife, forever gone from him, forever gone from herself. The way she looked when he found her. The sound of what she was doing. A shudder passed down his body. His thoughts continued to weave as the fire burned bright before his eyes.
“Can’t forget?”
Startled by the sound, he turned his head and aimed the gun at the voice. Near the edge of the tree line, stooped over and lame looking, stood the one-eyed man. His greasy and tangled hair flowed seamlessly into his unkempt beard. He made no forward attempt to come closer to the flame. His body looked emaciated under the frayed rags he wore as clothes.
The Wretched Page 8
