Dawson grabs his rifle and slings it over his shoulder. “I guess. If we keep a good pace and try to avoid stopping too much then that should work. You’re Mr. Adventure here. I’m just the city boy, remember?”
I strap my pack to my back. “I don’t know. You seem to be coming into your own out here.”
“What I would like to come into is a nice hot shower, a change of clothes, and a night out filled with stupid decisions. You know, the little things,” Dawson mentions.
“So, you basically want a normal day then,” I reply with a chuckle.
“Haha. Let’s not forget about the skeletons in your closet, dude,” Dawson reminds me with a tilt of his head.
He’s right about that. I have my fair share, although his are much more fun to talk about.
I rub Duke’s head. “This is true. You ready to see Mom and Cindy, boy?”
Duke wags his tail faster. He rubs against my leg and takes off through the bushes.
“Guess that’s a yes,” Dawson says. “Wish I knew how that dog has so much energy.”
“You and me both,” I reply.
Dawson heads out after Duke as I kick some more dirt over the smoking firepit, just to make sure it’s out.
“Hey, I’m going to get a drink from the stream before we get going. Do you want to come?” I inquire.
Dawson shakes his head. “Nah. I’m good.”
“All right. Be right back.” I sprint down to the stream, feeling much more relieved now that the sun is out, and I can see everything a lot more clearly. I didn’t realize how chilly it was this morning without being close to the fire we had going.
A shiver slides over my body as I kneel down at the stream. Dunking my hands and filling my palms full, I take another swig. I drink as much as I can and dunk them again.
Something moves in the bushes across the way. My body tenses up, hands spring up from the water. I get to my feet. I catch a glimpse of something out of the corner of my eye. It doesn’t look like an animal at all. It’s much larger, like a person.
Oh, crap!
My heart beats faster, and my breathing escalates. Fear grips me tightly. I manage to dart behind a tree before it looks back. I didn’t get a good look, but my intuition is screaming in my ears what it is.
Hands shaking like a leaf, I try to plot my exit. The chaser feels close, like it’s on the other side of this tree waiting for me to make my move. I remove the Remington. I take a couple of deep breaths.
I twist to the left, slowly rolling out from behind the tree to see if I can get a better look. It’s still in the bushes, thrashing about and messing with something on the ground. It pauses, and looks back this way.
I start to take cover again, but realize that it doesn’t see me. It’s looking in every direction and at nothing in particular. My nerves ease some. After a few minutes of it being curious, it turns and continues messing with whatever is on the ground. I really don’t want to know.
I jet from the stream and make a beeline back to where Dawson and Duke are waiting for me.
“You ok, bro?” Dawson asks.
I double over and place my hands on my knees. “I just saw one of those things by the stream.”
“Crap, dude. Was it chasing after you?” Dawson pulls his handgun from behind his back and points it in the direction I came.
“I don’t know. I didn’t stop to look.”
Duke comes over and tries to lick my face. I push him away.
Dawson stands on the tips of his toes and struggles to peer over the thick bushes. “I don’t see anything. Maybe now is a good time to get moving.”
I nod.
Dawson backs up and heads off in the opposite direction with me and Duke trailing behind. I really want nothing more than to just get to the cabin and not have to worry about all this. I don’t really know if the chasers are there or not, but I’m trying to find a silver lining in this nightmare we are living.
“You know, I never thought I’d see the day I’d be following you through the woods,” I mention as I follow behind Dawson.
“I know. Your dad always busted my balls about how I needed to learn more about hunting and survival, and get my head out of those games and things,” Dawson replies.
We continue walking through the dense woods. The sun’s rays beam down through the sparsely covered branches above, making it less chilly. I don’t really want it to get too hot though, considering that we already smell horrible, and the stench will only get worse. Man, what I wouldn’t give to have a nice shower right now.
“How long you figure we’ve been walking?” I ask.
“Too long. My legs are tired, and my feet are on fire,” Dawson barks.
Funny how fast his mood has changed.
I think back to school and remember our days in athletics.
“Didn’t you run track and all that?”
Dawson scoffs. “I did, but not for three days straight, man.”
“We’ve had some down time here and there,” I counter.
“Down time,” Dawson replies with a sarcastic chuckle. He throws up a rock, and clubs it with a block of wood he’s been toting around. “Not exactly what I’d call down time, man. Being chased by those things and spending a night in Hotel De Hillbilly. I’ll take my bed and less than boring life over this adventure any day.”
I can’t help but laugh at Dawson’s bellyaching. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve done my fair share here as of late. Guess I’m glad that it’s him instead of me at this moment.
Dawson turns his head to the right and asks, “What’s so funny back there? I can hear you laughing, dill hole.”
“Nothing, man. Just figure it’s better to be laughing than feeling sorry for myself. You know?”
“Yeah, I know.”
Dawson clubs another rock, sending it screaming off into the distance. The noise echoes through the canyon we are walking through.
“Hey, maybe we should take a break from home run derby. It seems to be causing a whole lot of extra noise,” I advise.
Dawson tosses up another rock and slugs it hard. “Don’t be jealous of my batting skills, James. I know you’re not much into the sport.”
“Ha ha. Very funny. We’ll see what kind of jokes you have when a chaser shows up because of the racket you’re making,” I say.
Dawson stops for a moment and digs into his right pant pocket. Duke continues on and disappears over a hill ahead of us.
“What are you digging for? Some more smartass comments?” I jokingly poke at him.
“Maybe.” Dawson removes a pack of cigarettes. The box is crushed and mangled. I didn’t particularly care for the taste or smell of the rancid things, but it seemed to take the edge off some.
Dawson hands me the pack.
“Two left. Want one?”
“Sure.”
I take one from the pack. Dawson grabs the other and discards the box to the ground. Litter bug.
I take out my lighter and ignite the end. I light Dawson’s as well. We both stand there in silence, puffing on the cigarettes. We take turns chocking on the toxic fumes while coughing the smoke from our mouths.
“So, you think your mom will be upset?” Dawson asks as he takes another drag.
My face distorts in disgust as I glance his way. “Upset about what?”
Dawson holds up his half-smoked cancer stick and points to it. “You smoking, fool.”
“I think she’ll just be happy to see me. This seems to be trivial compared to what’s happening.” Right now, I’m not even sure if the horrid smell of smoke lingering on my tongue would matter to her.
“Dude, if my mom and dad ever caught me smoking, there is no place I could run and hide. I don’t even think they’d care about the dead rising and trying to eat us. It would just be nagging about why I had to try smoking cigarettes or whatever.” Dawson folds his arms across his chest and contorts his face to look like his mom’s. Brows slanted inward and a furrowed frown as he points and scolds the air.
“Yeah, I could see that. Your parents are ball busters for sure. But deep down, they love you a lot, Dawson.” I reassure him with a smile.
He scoffs and shrugs. “If you say so, James.”
“Actually, mine can be just as tough and hard on me. Guess that’s their job and all. To make our lives miserable for eighteen years, or to make sure we don’t end up like Nick Colson, the high school dropout who does way too much drinking and drugs. Last I heard, he was in jail.”
“Lord! Amen to that.” Dawson nods. “That dude is a basket case. He’s definitely not going to make it through the apocalypse.”
To be honest, I really miss Mom and Dad worrying all the time about me and being nosey. More so Mom, but in either case, I wish things were different.
“Ok, man. I can’t take any more of this thing.” Dawson chokes on the smoke as it comes blowing out of his mouth. He tosses the snuffed-out cigarette onto the ground, and stomps it out.
I take one last drag and do the same. The smell is annoying me, and the smoke filling my lungs burns.
“Not sure how great of an idea that was,” I say with a scratchy tone.
“Agreed.”
CHAPTER TWENTY NINE
My mouth is dry, full of cotton. I wish I could vanquish the bitter taste of the cigarette. The rich tobacco has done little to calm my nerves, but instead has made me more hyper.
Dawson turns and heads up the hill. I swish what fluid I have in my mouth and spit, trying to rinse out the disgusting aftertaste, but it does little good.
A noise in the distance stops me cold. My eyes shift in the direction we just came. I’m so paranoid now that every little bump, creek, or strangely odd noise that’s carried on the back of the wind sends my guard up. I take heed of the eerie feeling overcoming me.
Everything around me falls silent. I listen intently, tilting my head slightly to the right. There it is again, but this time louder.
My nerves tighten, and I reach for the Remington. My fingers brush against the wooden stock. A rabbit hops out of a bush to my right. It doesn’t pay me any mind, hopping past me and darting off into the thick trees and bushes.
“Dude, you dying down there?” Dawson calls out.
“Nah. I’m coming.” I make my way up the hill and over the peak, catching up to Dawson and Duke. We get back on the move, stopping only when necessary and not messing around. Duke’s been ahead of us for a while, hopefully scouting and not chasing any animals he comes into contact with.
Bark! Bark!
Dawson squints. He brings the edge of his hand up just above his brow. “Why is he barking?”
"Probably just signaling where he is so we can find him.” We race down through the overgrown brown weeds and push our way through the low-lying branches in search of Duke. His barking becomes louder, more focused every step we take.
I get in front of Dawson, my ears honing in on each gruff noise he makes.
“Duke!” I call out. I catch sight of his dingy yellow coat through the thicket of verdure. He’s standing in place, and barking with his head tilted upward toward the sky. “We’re here, boy!”
Pushing the remaining branches out of our way, we make the clearing. I head for Duke when I suddenly spy the wide openness of sky and the void of any land. I hit the brakes and put my arms out to stop Dawson from going any further.
My feet slide over the loose dirt and rocks as I glide near the edge of the cliff. Dawson grabs me by the shoulders and pulls back. “Whoa, dude. That’s a long way down.”
I exhale a sigh of relief. “Yeah. That’s a trip I sure don’t want to take.”
Duke ceases his barking and comes over to us. He licks our hands and sits down on his hind legs. My heart races, and my breathing is labored.
I’m not a big fan of heights. Never have been and never will be. Going to amusement parks was a nightmare. Everyone always wanted to go on the biggest, tallest, scariest rides, and I just had to suck it up and deal with it. On the outside, I tried to look as though it was fun, but on the inside, I was crying like a little baby.
“Well, this sucks,” Dawson says plainly.
He carefully inches toward the edge and peers over. Just watching him is rattling my nerves.
“Can we back track and find another way around?” I suggest. I’m up for anything, really.
Dawson shrugs. “Guess we could, but I have no clue how far it would be or where to even go.” Dawson looks to either side. He raises his hand in the air to blot out the sun. “Or we could just cross right over there.” He points to his left to a shady bridge that’s swaying in the wind. From here, it looks like it has seen better days.
Dawson and Duke head over to the bridge. I take a couple of deep breaths and follow along.
The wind howling through the gorge before me sends a frightful shiver of fear through my body. I tell myself over and over again that if need be, we are crossing that bridge for Mom and Cindy, despite my fear.
“James, come here,” Dawson yells, motioning me to him.
Remember, you’re doing this for Mom and Cindy. For Mom and Cindy. So, get over there.
I walk over to the bridge. It sways back and forth, the wind picking up even more the closer I get. Is Mother Nature out to get me as well?
Dawson takes a couple of steps out, pressing his foot down on each board to test it. “Feels pretty solid to me.” He jumps up and down. My anxiety goes just as high. “I don’t see any bad spots really, but we’ll need to be careful when walking across. What do you think?”
My eyes are focused on the bridge, and of course, the worst possible scenarios—a board snapping under us or the ropes giving way and sending us plummeting to the ground below. Stupid, I know, but I can’t help it.
“James?”
“Yeah?”
“You good with this? You got that same look as when we went to that park and rode the Iron Maiden,” Dawson reminds me.
Thanks. I had forgotten about that.
Slowly backing away, I feel as though I am hyperventilating. Placing my hands on my knees, I take a couple of deep breaths. This is for Mom and Cindy. I just have to suck it up and get it over with.
Duke growls. His ears fold down onto his head. My muscles become tense and swollen with angst. My eyes widen as I search for the cause of the disturbance. His growling becomes more violent.
“Do you see anything?” Dawson asks, backing further onto the rickety bridge.
As I glance to the side, something blunt smacks me in the back. The impact sends me to the ground hard.
“James!” Dawson yells.
“Hold it right there, boy,” a familiar voice curtly demands as he fires a single gunshot into the air. “You and Koojo there keep your asses where they are.”
Oh no, is that... Roy?
Dawson grabs Duke by the collar. Duke barks fiercely, bearing teeth and growling under his breath.
“Man, I sure could use a dog like that. Would come in handy for sure,” Roy mentions.
As I lay face first in the dirt, Roy grabs the Remington and pulls it free from me. I try to get up, but get a boot in the small of my back that sends me back to the dirt hard.
Unable to assess the situation from where I am, I try to reason with him. “Listen, just let us go. We didn’t have anything to do with what transpired back at your compound.”
“Toss it over here, boy!” Roy orders Dawson.
Out of the corner of my eye, I spot Dawson holding his handgun in his free hand. With a scowl, he tosses it over. It hits the ground right in front of me, kicking dirt into my face.
Roy bends down and retrieves the weapon. He takes a moment before demanding that I move.
“Get your worthless hide off the ground slowly, boy.” He lets up his foot that is pressed in my back. He grabs my coat, and yanks me off the ground. “And here I didn’t think I’d find you boys again.”
“I thought-”
“You thought I was dead or something!” Roy angrily snaps.
He flips me about
face and jerks me toward him in a fit of rage. His breath still smells horrible, the stink worse than the trash dump we pass on the way to school. His face is covered with bruises and cuts, blood completing the palette.
Duke’s growls grow in intensity. His barks become deeper in tone. I look back over my shoulder, holding my hand up to try to calm him down. It doesn’t do any good as Dawson struggles to hold him back.
“Well, no thanks to you, kid! I came too just as a handful of those chasers were barreling down on me,” Roy growls. “Guess you should’ve taken another swing to make sure I wouldn’t get up.”
“Seems like your country ass and your fellow hillbilly friends got what you deserved,” Dawson hisses from the swaying bridge.
With my head bouncing all over from Roy jerking me from side to side, I mouth “shut up” to Dawson.
“Perhaps we did, smartass. But I guess it’s too bad that they didn’t finish me off,” Roy counters. “Otherwise, I wouldn’t have had the opportunity to track you boys down.” Roy shoves me away, my feet fumbling as I stumble backward onto the bridge. Dawson catches me by my arms and helps me back to my feet. Duke charges Roy, growling more fiercely than I’ve ever heard him before.
“Duke, stop!” I yell as Roy trains his gun at Duke’s head.
He complies, stopping immediately upon command, in what I fear is not a moment too soon. He continues to growl, bearing his glistening fangs for Roy to see.
“Man, that dog’s got a temper for sure,” Roy snickers. “I love me a mean and feisty mutt. You got him well trained, boy.”
“You ok?” Dawson asks.
“Yeah,” I adjust my clothes and gear. “So, what are you going to do to us?”
Roy rests the barrel of his gun against his shoulder and paces about. “You know, I’ve been thinking about that and couldn’t make up my mind. I could just kill you right here on this bridge, quick and fast. Kick your bodies over and down into that nasty little river below. Probably some nice jagged rocks to break your fall.”
“Or...” Dawson adds sarcastically.
Roy pauses and stares at him. “Man, kid, you sure got a pair on you. Hanging out to dry and you’re still running that mouth of yours.”
Fallout Page 20
