600 Miles: A Post-Apocalyptic Adventure

by G. P. Grewal

  I was winded pretty bad, though I tried not to show it to Roy. He was close behind me and I knew he could hear me breathing hard no matter how much I was pretending like it was easy. Of course, even though he didn't seem to be putting half as much work in, he was suddenly alongside me again.

  From behind I heard a squeal as someone went down. It was Gitty. I cursed under my breath as we all stopped, already knowing what had happened.

  "Gitty, you ok?" I called.

  I went back to look, seeing her in the mud holding her leg like she was hurt. I knelt beside her, trying to figure out how bad it was. Immediately, she pulled it back.

  "Ow! Don't touch it!"

  "Sorry! What's wrong?"

  "My ankle, gosh damn it! I tripped on something!"

  "You ain't broke nothing, did you?"

  "Well how the hell would I know?"

  I ain't ever heard her cuss so much and I sure never seen her so angry. I tried to touch it again, but she slapped my hand away.

  "Why'd you go running off anyway?" she scolded me. "I told you I needed your help!"

  "I didn't know you was going to fall, Gitty."

  "Well I did!"

  Roy and Ramiro came back to investigate. Weren't no helping Gitty, as angry at me as she was, so I backed away, leaving Roy to figure out what was wrong. I didn't even give a damn as I turned away, though I looked over again and saw him touching her leg as he examined it and I'm not sure how I felt about that. I mean, weren't right for a man to be touching another man's woman, but then again he was just helping. And even if it were wrong then, well, I can't say I minded it so much either. It might not seem right what I'm saying, but sometimes crazy thoughts just go through a man's head, like things you know is wrong but can't help but think about anyway, though honestly it's just too indecent to talk about.

  "Looks like it's sprained," Roy said.

  "Well it sure hurts bad for just being sprained," said Gitty. "Are you sure it's not broken?"

  Weren't how she'd been talking to me. With him she was being all polite, just letting him examine her and fondle her leg and going "Ooh, that's a little tender right there," and "Ooh, that smarts," and so on.

  There was that thought again as I watched them and it weren't so wholesome and I turned away, looking off through that mess of fallen trees ahead. It would be tough to get through now that Gitty was hurt, and sure enough it was decided that we should stop for the day and give her a chance to rest, though we needed to find someplace clear to camp. I volunteered to go ahead and see what was around, since Roy the doctor was so busy anyway. Roy and Gitty looked at me a bit strange but agreed and I was off, Roy telling Ramiro to go with me.

  I was angry, but my unease of going with Ramiro made me forget all about Roy and Gitty and bare legs being touched and the weird thoughts. He came right behind me, using that meat hook of his to brush aside the vines and swat at the thickets as we searched for a good spot to camp. We didn't have to go far before finding such a place, a clearing next to which there was even running water, the rain having caused the stream we saw at the bottom of the gully to run high.

  I sat myself down, my neck all hot and sticky. There was still no sun, though it was muggy from all the rain and my shirt clung to me and my drawers were digging up my ass. My asshole itched. When the hell was I going to get to bathe again? I looked around, listening to the running water, Ramiro standing nearby looking up at the sky with his mouth open like maybe he were expecting something to fall.

  "Ain't nothing going to come down from there, you know."

  He scowled at me, that hard, ill-humored face looking none too friendly.

  "Just saying. Ain't trying to make you seem like no dummy or nothing. Tell me though, which one of us is more guilty of being that man's dog, you or me? Seems like all either of us do is follow him around."

  He took a step forward.

  "I'm no one's dog, pendejo."

  I shook when I heard it, dumb, stupefied, stunned. He smiled a little, the corners of his mouth curling up. More like a sneer.

  "That's right. Never would have guessed, would you? Did you think you were the only indio around here who could speak like a white?"

  I couldn't say nothing for a moment.

  "My God! Wow, I can't believe it! You speak English? Listen, I—I ain't mean nothing disrespectful by it. Honest. Just trying to be funny is all. You know, like a joke."

  I laughed a little more, the noise sounding flat to my own ears.

  "Joking? Sure you were. I know, you were just trying to make me laugh. Maybe you should have said it in Spanish. It might have been funnier that way."

  "Ha! Well, I don't know nothing about speaking your language. Your other one, I mean. Sadly I've never had the privilege of learning it, though it sounds real pretty to me—I mean, like mighty nice to the ear. Maybe I could find someone to teach it to me someday, you think?"

  He just chuckled, cold and dry, them hard eyes sizing me up. "Well, that's 'mighty nice' of you to say so. Here's your first word: pendejo. You know what it means?"

  "I sure don't."

  "It means asshole, asshole. And I'll tell you what, you ever call me someone's dog again, someone's perro, I'll stick this meat hook so far up your ass it'll come out your estúpida mouth. Comprende?"

  "Sure, comprende!"

  He just stood there staring, that nasty hook in his hand. I thought about reaching for my pistol, but he were so close that I'd probably have been skewered before I could even pull it out. Besides, weren't no reason to shoot him, what with being able to understand how he might be a little ruffled up. Ain't that I was scared, mind you, just that I was trying to take a more peaceful approach, which had I not been a strong-willed man would have been hard to do.

  Satisfied, he put that hook away, glaring at me one last time before turning his back. I watched him as he pulled down some low-hanging branches, throwing them on the ground like he was fixing himself up a place to sleep.

  "Does— Does Roy know?" I finally asked.

  He stopped what he was doing, all sweaty and mean-looking, them hard, wiry muscles pumped up.

  "Does he know what?"

  "About you speaking English."

  "No, he don't know nothing, amigo."

  "Were you going to tell him?"

  "Why should I?"

  "’Cause ain't you his friend?"

  "Maybe. Or maybe I'm just his dog. Or maybe I'm just some crazy Mexican who's waiting for the right moment to kill all of you."

  "All right now, ain't no reason to be saying such a horrible thing, even in joke. It ain't what I think of you, if that's what you're saying."

  "To tell you the truth chico, I don't care. Think what you want. I'm here because I respect Roy. He's the toughest bastard I've ever seen, and that's saying a lot. You I don't care about, or your woman even, if it worries you."

  "Is that why you came with us? Because of Roy?"

  "Yes. Did you think it would be because of you?"

  "But he done kill so many of your friends."

  "But not enough. I hated my so-called 'brothers'. It made me happy to see them die."

  "Why do you hate them? Ain't they your people?"

  "No, pendejo, they were just my gang. It's none of your business anyway. Do you always ask so many questions? But I'll answer one, one from before. I might follow Roy, but I'm not a man who's ever lied to himself about being a leader. I'm a man who knows how to bow to one who's better than me, not a dog who follows because it can't fend for itself. That dog would be you, my friend, a little puppy that this city would have eaten up if it had wandered in here alone. Remember that, because the only one here who doesn't know it is you."

  My hands was shaking, though no matter how much anger I felt I just sat there, embarrassed and ashamed. He knew it too. I saw it in his eyes that he knew I was too much of a coward to know what to say or do. Disgusted, he turned away, going back to ripping down branches from the trees.

  I got up, but he didn't pay that
no mind either. I left him, walking back to where we'd left Gitty and Roy, Roy suddenly lifting his head as he heard me. He was still kneeling next to Gitty, her bare leg propped up on a rock so that she were exposed well past her thigh. I didn't like it but looked away, pretending that it weren't nothing to me.

  "Elgin," Gitty said. "Roy was just taking another look. We're sure it ain't broken at least. Ain't that good news?"

  "That's great."

  "You don't sound so excited. Ain't you happy to hear it?"

  "Yeah, I am. That's real good to hear. I'm just tired is all. Me and Ramiro found a place for us to rest if you all want to come along."

  She looked away, still frowning, muttering something I didn't hear. I went over to her, Roy moving away, holding out my hands.

  "Come on. I'll help you."

  It didn't make her no happier but she took them, wincing and making a fuss as she leaned on me while hobbling a few steps. At our new campsite, no one said much of anything, and I avoided looking anyone in the face as I set about fixing a place for Gitty to lay down. Soon I had finished. I helped her up again and we made it over to our makeshift bed, Gitty huffing and puffing the whole way.

  "Easy, Elgin!" she snapped. "You ain't being too careful!"

  I told her I was sorry, not wanting to yell back at her on account of her being hurt. The others was looking at me, it seemed, though maybe it was just in my head. When she was comfortable I looked around, wondering what I could do next.

  "This wood around here ain't no good," I said. "I'll go see if I can find something better to burn."

  Roy nodded, but no one said anything and I left. It was wet all over, and I knew I wouldn't find nothing better walking around but I didn't want to go back to them. It felt better to be by myself again, even if it were for just a little while. I thought about what Ramiro had said to me but let it go. Weren't nothing to say, nothing to do, and weren't no telling nobody about it either. I went about my business, doing my best to forget. I could hear talking. I listened closer and it was Gitty and Roy. Roy said something, though I couldn't hear what, and then I heard Gitty laugh.

  I was losing her. When did it start? Maybe it was back when them men captured us and Ramiro had saved Gitty from dying. Maybe it was before. Maybe it was when we'd met them people living behind the bars and Gitty had seen something better than what I could ever give her. Maybe it was from the very time we met Roy. Maybe it was them couple of days ago, when I had shouted at her for pulling off her top when it was raining and she had run to me all happy and unafraid. But even knowing wouldn't have made no difference, wouldn't have meant nothing but me having a reason to hate myself for messing up.

  I went back and threw down the few pieces of wood I had brought back then set about trying to get a fire going. It was too wet and only smoked, and weren't no one that helped me until finally Roy came over and somehow got it going in no time at all. I thanked him for it and went about pulling down more branches, Gitty napping on the bed I'd made up for her and me feeling all alone. By the time I laid down beside her she sat up again, fussing a little as she touched her leg, and so I turned over and closed my eyes, figuring it was for the best.

  I couldn't sleep, though I laid there for a long time pretending, my eyes closed. Finally I felt Gitty lay back down and waited some more, but there was space left between us and she never moved closer and we fell asleep like that, and weren't one time that night that she snuggled up or put her arm around me like she always did. It were something that hurt to be sure.

  Chapter 18

  We stayed there for a couple of days more, Gitty too hurt to walk. It didn't get any better between me and her. The few times I tried to talk to her she was cold and didn't have too much to say. I even tried making small talk about the ocean like we used to, about what it might be like out there and how wonderful it would be for us.

  "I sure hope them stories are true," I told her, boring her yet again.

  Maybe things would go back to being normal once her leg was healed and we moved on. It couldn't be far to the ocean now. I was restless. I seemed the only one who was like that, though I couldn't understand why. It was like they just wanted to sit around where we were, doing nothing all day but shooting the occasional rabbit or deer that made the mistake of wandering too close to the camp. I asked Roy about scouting ahead but he didn't think it would be a good idea for me to go alone and said that I should go with Ramiro, just to be safe. I didn't want to, but I didn't want it to seem like there were something I had against that Mexican neither, and so the two of us ended up setting off.

  We didn't say much, me and Ramiro, the tension that had been between us only growing now that we was away from Gitty and Roy. I still hadn't told Roy about his speaking English, wondering if it were a secret I was better off keeping to myself, Ramiro probably looking for any reason he could to put a knife in me. Or that hook I mean. He looked at me a few times, something playing on his lips like he were finding humor at my expense. I ignored him as much as I could, pushing through them woods and hoping to find open road again.

  It must have been another hour, but finally the trees started thinning and there it was, the same road we'd been traveling before it got swallowed by the woods. To my right rose a high cliff, and up farther to the left was a deep gorge and rocky slopes, the road straight ahead disappearing into a dark, man-made tunnel.

  "Finally," I said. "Looks like clear going from here. I wonder if there's anything dangerous in that tunnel though."

  Ramiro ignored me. Looking closer at the tunnel, it seemed like there was light coming from the other end, which at least meant it weren't blocked off.

  "You think we're close?" I said.

  "To the ocean? I think so."

  "What's it like? Is it really like they say?"

  "How should I know, chico? I've never seen it before."

  It was strange that he lived so close yet had never been there, though seeing how little he liked questions I didn't ask why. "Well, let's head back and tell them then," I said.

  I jumped as that bullet ricocheted off the pavement, Ramiro throwing himself to the ground. There were more shots, cutting the air as they whizzed by, though I couldn't see where they was coming from.

  "Take cover!" Ramiro shouted.

  We ran back into the trees, them bullets ripping through the woods until whoever it was had lost sight of us and stopped shooting. Then I saw it, that lone figure hidden in the brush on top of the tunnel, his head bobbing around like he was looking for us until he ducked back down.

  "I see the bastard," I said.

  "Yeah. He's not moving."

  "I'm gonna take a shot."

  Ramiro grabbed my arm. "Forget it. You're never going to hit him from this far. Here's the plan. I'm going up. I'll climb the cliff from here where he can't see, then circle around and get him from behind."

  "You want to do it, go ahead. Sounds like you're going to get yourself killed for sure."

  He just chuckled at me and went, the look in his eye telling me I was useless and that he was going to show me just how it was done. He kicked off his shoes then started up the cliff, the trees still hiding us from view. The rocks looked slick, and I kept waiting for him to suddenly lose hold and fall but he never did. Must have been twenty feet up but he kept going, his wiry muscles flexing like they was iron cords.

  Then, as he reached the top and was pulling himself over the edge, a shot rang out. I looked and saw that the man on top of the tunnel had spotted him, another shot peeling off. I couldn't see Ramiro anymore, just the shooter, though as I drew my pistol and took aim I knew he was well out of range.

  I ran from the woods, running halfway to the tunnel before the man on top of it spotted me and switched targets. Weren't too many shots he got off on me before I was too far under him for him to see me anymore, at which point he started shooting at Ramiro again. I scrambled up the rocky slope to my right, hoping the wall of the tunnel would cover me until I reached the top, loose rocks tumbling
down to the road as I climbed. Them shots from above were still going off every so often, but then I heard what sounded like Ramiro shooting back.

  Finally, I reached the top, pulling my pistol out. The man was too busy popping off shots at Ramiro, wherever he was, to notice me. I suddenly stood up and took aim, the surprised look on that old bastard's face kind of funny. Don't sound too good saying it, but I have to admit it were a humorous thing as he let out a little yelp like the boogeyman had just jumped out of the dark, and that's when I plugged him good.

  He went down. I hurried over to where he was laying, my pistol ready. At first I thought he were dead but he wasn't, his breathing hard, his pained eyes fixing on me as I stood over him.

  "Why were you shooting at us?" I said.

  He didn't answer. I heard someone coming and turned to see Ramiro. He stood beside me, the two of us looking down at him together.

  "How many times were you going to miss?" Ramiro said.

  "Fuck you Mexicans!" the man gasped.

  There was a shot and I jumped back and the man squirming on the ground jumped too, only he couldn't move again after that. I looked over and saw the pistol in Ramiro's hand. He just looked at me then walked away, leaving me to go about the dirty business of looting.

  I caught up to Ramiro as he was walking back towards the woods, my arms full with the dead man's' rifle and knapsack.

  "He ain't had to shoot at us," I said.

  "Maybe he did," said Ramiro.

  "What do you mean?"

  "I mean everyone's got a reason to shoot at somebody nowadays, chico."

  "Well I ain't no bandit or nothing and weren't no reason he had to shoot like that."

  "Go back and tell him then, though I don't think he's going to hear you so good."

  I didn't say nothing after that. This man were a killer, this man who was accustomed to painting his face up and looking like death, waylaying innocent people and all. Who knows what he was guilty of. I could only imagine what he'd done before we knew him. But he'd saved Gitty, that was for sure, though I doubted he'd done it for the sake of doing something good.