by Ryan Schow
Fortunately for all of us, Rex’s eyes remain focused on the road ahead, and he says nothing about his military exploits. This has me studying Indigo. For some strange reason, I think I’m enamored by the girl.
No, I’m sure of it.
Staring at the back of her head, I wonder, what is it that drives her? There’s something dark and ferocious propelling her forward. Even when she’s standing still, behind her eyes she looks like she’s charging forward, ready to pulverize anything or anyone in her way.
I shake my head, look away, try to think of something else. My stomach rumbles, causing me to slow my pace again, but only for a second. No need reminding everyone we have nothing to eat, no place to live, and no backyards for which to dig holes we’ll later call toilets.
I want to say something to Stanton, or Rex. Discuss our grim situation hoping one of them might be able to chase away some of my mounting anxieties, but first things first: we need someplace to call home. Indigo offered to help, so we’re taking her up on it. If we can solve this one problem first, then all the other little problems might seem a bit more manageable. Certainly not so overwhelming.
One thing at a time, Sin, I remind myself yet again.
Indigo finally turns and looks at Rex, who sees this and gives her one of his trademark grins; her response is a decisive frown.
“Stop looking at me like that,” she says. That smile falls right off his face, making me grin inside. “I need to ask you a serious question.”
“Okay…”
“I need your help,” she tells him.
At this point I’m eavesdropping, trying to close the distance gap between us, but not enough to reveal my intentions.
“I’m listening,” Rex says.
“I’ve been watching these guys for a few days,” she tells him.
“The guys that attacked us? The ones you shot?”
“The one that got away, back in the field? I’m fairly certain he’ll have headed back to their little gangbanger’s squatter palace. Which is a Walgreen’s if you can imagine. We need to get to him, interrogate him. See if there are more of them. You seem to have a tolerance for this sort of thing—”
“What sort of thing?”
“War.”
Smiling, he says, “Ah, yes.”
“You a soldier?”
“Did a few tours, but I’m retired for now.”
“You’re too young to be retired.”
“We’re all retired,” he says. “Seriously, look around. The daily grind isn’t about punching a clock as much as it’s about not getting our clocks punched.”
Her mouth twitches and I can tell he thinks he’s said something clever.
“Can you fight or not?” she asks.
“That’s a silly question,” he replies, deadpan, his eyes fixed on her.
“Sure it’s not, soldier,” she quips, returning to her confident, purposeful, isolated walk. “Just know things are about to get a little bloody.”
“Bloody for whom?”
“Not us if we play our cards right,” she says, not meeting his eyes.
Hearing this conversation between them, I’m starting to wonder if she’s got a handle on things, or if she’s about to get us into the kind of trouble we were fortunate enough to have just escaped.
“How’d you find us in the first place?” Rex asks.
“I wasn’t looking,” she says.
Rex’s got his eyes on a pack of travelers ahead of us, moving quickly. There’s another guy is across the street on all fours in the gutter throwing up. Some pre-teen girl is sitting on the curb a few feet from him with a dirty Teddy Bear tucked in her armpit. She’s picking her teeth.
“You weren’t looking, yet you found us anyway,” Rex replies.
“Lucky me.”
Rex now turns and glares at her.
“I told you I’ve been tracking these guys,” she finally admits.
“Why?”
She gives him the look. “If you’ll let me finish? Please? My God, you’re like a dog with a hard-on. And not terribly bright.”
He frowns and says, “Well your communication skills suck.”
“I get that.”
“What did they do to you to turn you into…this?” he asks, motioning to the whole of her.
“And suddenly he’s a little smarter than he looks.”
The jab makes me smile. Yeah, I definitely like this girl. I like that she’s keeping Rex on his toes, even though I’m not exactly sure I like where her head is at.
“Vigilantes never start out as vigilantes,” he says. “They’re made.”
“Is that how you see me?”
“You put an arrow in the guy’s head from fifty yards out.”
“My grandpa taught me to shoot.”
“Congratulations?”
Indigo shakes her head, and I have half a mind to smack my little brother, but he’s a grown man, perfectly capable of making his own choices and mistakes if he wants. Looking away, almost like she’s somewhere else, like she’s trying to decide how to say it, she finally says, “Those cretins did the unthinkable.”
Everything about my brother changes: his demeanor, how tall he’s standing, the way he’s looking at her—everything…it’s just…different.
If Rex is anything like me, we’re both wondering what could be so bad that she resorted to tracking these guys down and killing them with neither reluctance nor mercy.
“I spent a lot of time in the middle east,” Rex says. “Not to sound like one of those jack hounds who’s always trying to one-up everyone, but what you call unthinkable here is very different from the unthinkable there.”
“Well I wasn’t in the middle east, but bad is bad and what these guys are about to do is worse than bad. I can feel it.”
In a rare moment of kindness, or compassion rather, Rex softens his eyes and says, “I’m sorry, Indigo. For whatever happened to you.”
Indigo doesn’t say anything for a few blocks, not until Macy asks how much longer.
“Rex an I need to grab a few things at the Walgreens on the corner of 22nd and Irving,” Indigo tells her, “and from there it’s only a few blocks more.”
I have a feeling that what Indigo plans on grabbing are the balls and throats of these creeps who seem to possess very little regard for the lives of innocents.
“Please tell me there’s food there,” Macy replies, “because my stomach is currently digesting itself.”
“I think there’s food there,” she answers. Then: “Maybe even a few rolls of toilet paper.”
“Perhaps we could find a shovel, too,” Rex says. “That way we can dig a toilet wherever we land.”
She looks at him, not a trace of humor in her lovely eyes, and says, “This isn’t a joke.”
“I’ve been in the thick of it before, Indigo.”
“Is that supposed to encourage me?”
“This is home. Not some hellhole overseas. The landscape and our enemies are different, but in the end, war is war. You have to be flexible. Which I am. And you can’t think long term, not while you’re up to your tits in it, which I’m not.”
“Cute,” she says, while I’m just shaking my head.
“Long term is fifteen minutes from now,” he continues, undeterred. “Me? I’m on a minute-by-minute basis. That’s all about to change, though. On the off chance that you haven’t noticed, the only reason we’re able to walk around out in the open without getting blown to smithereens is because that explosion in the sky was an EMP that wiped out the drones.”
“You think?” she says.
“Listen,” he tells her. “What do you hear?”
She listens. We all listen. Where we’re at, the only sounds we hear are our own footfalls on the asphalt.
“EMP,” Rex says again.
“Electromagnetic Pulse,” Indigo replies.
“As of this moment, we’ve got a different set of problems we can’t fix right away.”
“Such as?”
&nbs
p; “Food, water, shelter.”
“Not a problem just yet,” Indigo says, confident. “What else?”
“Ummmmm, we’ve just been blown back to the stone age, in case you haven’t figured it out.”
“I’m young, but not naïve.”
“Perfect.”
“Before we worry about that, we’ve got to clean up these problems. Which is why we’re going to the Walgreen’s. The point is, I need to know you have my back.”
He snorts out a hearty laugh, then says, “Of course I’ve got your six.” She looks at him, somber. He gives her a steadfast nod. Then: “Look, you saved our collective bacon back there, so I’m happy to return the favor.”
“We may have to kill some bad people,” she says, her voice low, like she’s trying to hide it from Macy.
“Didn’t we already have this conversation?” he asks with a cocky grin.
“We’re not killing anyone,” I hiss at them.
“Stay out of this, sis,” Rex says.
Behind me, Macy and Stanton are talking. Not paying attention to any of this…scheming.
“Killing people isn’t exactly my forte,” Indigo finally admits.
“For being green, you certainly look the part,” Rex tells her, not looking at her when he says this.
Now it’s Indigo’s turn to steal a look at Rex. He meets her gaze. She doesn’t pull away this time, but he’s not smiling either.
“At the Walgreen’s,” she says, her words bleak, her expression truly grim. “That’s where they’re at.”
“What’s your angle?” he asks, lowering his voice even more.
“A Charles Manson style interrogation.”
Grinning, he says, “Man, they must’ve really done a number on you.”
“You have no idea,” she grumbles.
Chapter Thirty-Five
When the Walgreen’s was in sight, Indigo pulled everyone aside and said, “Rex and I need to clear the store first, make sure no one is waiting in there for us. Then we’ll check for food and supplies.”
“We’ll all go,” Macy told her, eager. “We’re stronger together.”
“Stealth is sometimes better than brute force, Macy,” Rex told his niece. “What we need from you is to watch our backs, make sure once we’re inside we’re not followed in and trapped. So if anyone looks like they’re coming in behind us, stop them.”
“How?”
“Fire off a warning shot,” Rex said, preparing himself. Then, looking at Macy, he said, “And preferably not at their head. Not unless it’s completely necessary.”
“What if there are people in there?” Macy asked.
Rex thought about this. He expected people to be in there—had envisioned it ever since Indigo told him there would be blood—but he wasn’t sure if he should tell her what he and Indigo were planning. What were they planning?
“We’re counting on there being people inside,” Indigo said, fessing up.
“Bad people?” Stanton asked.
“We’ll see. If they are, though, I’m pretty sure we can handle them. But if there’s shooting, and someone other than me or Rex comes rushing out that door, put a bullet right through their heart. Don’t think,” Indigo said while looking right at Stanton, “just do it.”
“We’ve got your six,” Macy said, sounding much older than she was.
His niece was taking all this a bit too casually, Rex thought as he looked at the young blonde. It hadn’t hit her yet: the killing, all this death. When it does, all her carefree bravado will crack and she’ll most likely need years of counseling.
He’d seen it all too many times before. Nearly went through it himself.
Rex pulled his eyes off Macy and put them on Stanton. Nodding Macy’s way, he said, “Don’t let her kill anyone else if you can help it.”
“Hey!” Macy said.
“This is not a game,” he said. His arm throbbing throbbed down deep where he’d been shot and a righteous headache long ago dulled his senses, but these minor ails paled in comparison to what might come next if Indigo was right. “Stanton, you take the point, followed by Cincinnati, and then you, Macy.”
Begrudgingly, his niece acquiesced.
“Good.”
“You ready?” Indigo asked.
“Yep.”
Indigo took point, but not for long. At the store’s alcove and glass door entrance—Rex on one side, Indigo ten feet away on the other—he said, “Lose the bow and arrows.”
“They’ll be fine.”
“Not in tight quarters,” he whispered, low and serious. They’d both taken a knee and were now glowering at each other. “You try to turn, snag something on something, you could get us killed. I’m not dying for you in a freaking Walgreen’s of all places.”
“I said I’m fine,” she snapped. “You just worry about you and I’ll worry about me.”
“You’re not listening, little girl,” he hissed. “Take it off, leave it here, or go back to wherever it was you came from and let me handle this.”
Railing him with silent daggers made by eyes that were screaming a million hateful things, they had the mother of all stare offs, which lasted for about thirty seconds with neither of them blinking.
Finally she blew out a breath, slipped her bow off her back, shrugged out of the quiver of arrows and stashed them in a small service alley next door at Sun Maxim’s Dim Sum To Go.
“If someone takes my gear, I swear to God I’ll shoot you myself,” she barked in low tones.
“Save it for the fight,” he said. Then, looking at her, his eyes dipped to the twelve inch Ka-bar blade on her side. Pointing to it, he said, “You know how to use that?”
“Looks like carefree Rex is gone,” she replied, taking note of his change of attitude. This was war, though, and war has a way of turning on you quick if you get it wrong.
“How many men have you taken down with it?” he asked.
Rolling her eyes, she unsnapped the leather sheath, pulled out the blade and tossed it to him. He caught it by the handle, flipped it over and said, “Wow, just like that?”
“Let’s not make a big deal of it,” she grumbled.
Fair enough, he thought.
With that he nodded, then moved in front of the store’s doors, pried one open and held it for Indigo. In one hand Rex held his pistol, in the other Indigo’s Ka-bar. In front of him, Indigo was armed with two pistols and looking incredibly sexy at the same time.
Not now, he thought.
As disagreeable as this girl was proving to be, she was also proving to be quite competent. No one was prepared for a war that found its way stateside, certainly not like this, not from our own technology going rogue, if that’s what this was. But she was fitting in just fine.
If he was attracted to her before, he was really attracted to her now.
Not now!
Shaking off these distracting thoughts, he attuned his senses to his surroundings. The inside was hardly recognizable as a store. Most of the shelves had been looted. Displays were knocked over, isles pushed this way and that, beds and tents everywhere. It all made for some lousy cover. Even worse, there was a distinct smell of urine and pot smoke in the air. Urine he could stomach; pot smoke residue…not so much.
Deeper inside the store, near the back, he heard voices. He held up a fist; Indigo stopped. She was good with directions, he thought. A plus considering Cincinnati tended to hesitate and Macy tended to rush into things. Stanton, on the other hand, was reliable. For a ragtag gang of untrained talent, it was a start.
He made out two men’s voices and a woman’s. Rex motioned for Indigo to head up one side of the store and to keep her eyes on him. She nodded. He then signaled that they were going to flank the group and she seemed to understand.
As he moved around an endcap, he saw a middle-aged man in sweat pants and a touristy t-shirt (one size too small) sitting on the floor with his back against the wall. He wore a trucker’s cap with the tag still on, but it was pulled over his eyes and he w
as sleeping. He had no visible ink, except for the two teardrops tattooed below his eyes.
Looking down, Rex almost stepped into a coil of human excrement. Not fresh, but not crispy either. Poo fumes tickled the air. He stepped over the pile, leaving the fecal artwork behind him where he couldn’t smell it.
Standing perfectly still, dead quiet, Rex steadied his breath. When Rex studied the man, he was pretty sure he knew what he was looking at: a misfit of the violent sort. Scarred knuckles weren’t always a true tell to a brawler, but more often than not they were.
Creeping forward, Rex snuck up on the sleeping man, knelt down, then with a burst of force, he drove the Ka-bar’s mammoth blade in between the man’s fourth and fifth rib. They guy jolted awake in time for Rex to palm-strike the blade the rest of the way in. The man’s eyes shot wide open and he drew a sharp breath. Rex quickly covered the man’s mouth to silence any sound that may escape and give them away. The man’s breath held for a second, then he began to deflate like an old balloon losing air.
Death imminent, his head lolled toward Rex, terribly slow. Pain-stricken eyes slid toward him. He tried to focus, but couldn’t. There was no vibrancy left. The body drooped against the blade. Feeling the weight of him on the knife, Rex ripped the Ka-bar out, opening up the man’s insides, which would most assuredly lead to rapid and permanent organ failure.
Rex stepped over him, quiet as a mouse, and left him there to die.
Moving forward, unobstructed, he crept toward the sound of the voices. He nearly reached the back of the store when he looked over and saw Indigo waiting for him, giving him the “what gives?” signal. He raised the bloody blade and pointed to it. She nodded in understanding, then used two fingers to tell him she had eyes on the targets. After that she held up three fingers. He nodded. Three subs, confirmed.
She moved forward; he intended to follow.
That’s when an explosion of gunfire erupted behind him. One shot zinged past him, whistling so close to his ear he froze, but only for a split second. What pulled him from his momentary paralysis was the second, third and fourth shots.
