If nothing else, he figured they could turn onto Monica’s street and use the RV’s high beams to see if Carl’s bike was there. But even if it was, that didn’t mean for sure that Carl was there. He could be in a neighbor’s house, or could have taken someone’s car and driven away while it was still snowing. He would’ve only risked leaving on his bike if it was raining, and he’d be reluctant to even do that. He could manage it with his goggles and gloves, but he’d get soaked without a change of clothes.
Headlights appeared behind them as they were approaching the intersection of Monica’s street. This ordinary occurrence was much more significant now since there were so few people on the mountain. As Monica slowed down, the car behind them increased its speed. She and Trey watched in their side-view mirrors as the car behind them appeared determined to ram right into them.
Monica started to make the left turn onto her street and just then the car zipped around to their left on a collision course with them. She stomped on the brake pedal and Trey flew forward into the windshield, yelling out in pain as his head bounced off of it and he fell back into his seat. The car flew by, just missing the left front end of the RV.
“Shit!”
“Are you alright, Trey? Oh no, you’re bleeding again!”
“That was Carl!”
“What!? Are you sure?”
Trey wiped dripping blood out of one of his eyes and looked around for something to stop the blood flow.
“I’m pretty sure. I didn’t see his face, but I saw his colors.”
“What do you mean, his colors?”
Trey pointed a thumb over his shoulder at his back. “His vest. He had an Unforgiven patch on his vest – our colors.”
“But could it have been someone else from your… group?”
“It could’ve been, but I think it was Carl. All of the guys except him and me live in Denver, and we know Carl was up here.”
“Do you think he saw us?”
“Not a chance. He flew by like a maniac. He wasn’t looking backwards.”
“Well if he’s zooming down the mountain, then it’s safe to go my house.” She took her foot off the brake and let the car move forward at idle speed. Her hands were shaking from the encounter with the speeding station wagon and Trey getting hurt again.
Trey found a microfiber cloth in the compartment in front of his seat and held it to his head. It quickly turned red as it absorbed his blood. Carl’s bike was in the street in front of Monica’s driveway.
“Oh no. Both motorcycles are there. What if that wasn’t him in the car?” She stopped the RV in front of the neighbor’s house next to hers. “What should we do?” She held her hand on the gearshift lever, ready to put it in Reverse.
“I’m going to get out and walk around your house and see if it looks like anyone is inside.”
“But what if he’s there and he sees you?”
Trey pulled the gun out of the back of his waistband. “If he’s still here, I’m armed, and he’s not.”
“I forgot you had my gun.” She smiled.
“I’ll give it back in a few minutes.”
“No. Keep it. I only fired it once when Thomas was teaching me how to shoot.”
“I’ll be back in a few minutes. Keep the doors locked just in case. If anyone approaches who isn’t me, honk the horn like crazy and I’ll come running.”
“Be careful. You’re still bleeding and you probably have a new concussion.” Monica looked at him wide-eyed with fear and concern. She didn’t want him to put himself in danger, but neither did she want to endanger herself. She hoped to never see Carl again as long as she lived – not unless she was looking at his corpse.
After three minutes that felt like thirty, she saw a figure slowly approaching the RV. The headlights were still on, but he was too far to the left of the beams to be visible. She placed her hand on the horn and stared intently at the dark figure, waiting for him to reach the light.
As he crossed the front of the RV and was illuminated by the headlights, she relaxed, seeing that it was Trey. He came around the side, opened the door and climbed up onto the seat.
“No one’s there. The front door was still wide open and there’s no fire burning.” He stopped talking to catch his breath and to wipe the sweat and blood from his face with his sleeve.
He gestured for her to go ahead and pull up to the house. She put the RV in Drive and let it slowly roll forward, knocking Carl’s bike over and pushing it until she came to a stop when the RV’s doors were parallel to the front door of the house. They went inside cautiously and slowly as if neither of them was certain that the house was empty. Trey held the Glock in front of him, prepared to shoot if anyone rushed at them from the dark interior.
“Have you got any candles?”
“Yes. We just have to feel our way to the kitchen. Get behind me and hold on to my shirt. You can’t afford to hit your head again.”
Trey reached into his pocket and pulled out his lighter. He felt for Monica’s arm, found it and followed it down to her hand where he deposited the lighter.
“Lead the way,” he said, smiling in the dark.
After they found and lit several candles, placing them in various spots throughout the house, Trey laid himself down on the couch at Monica’s insistence while she started a fire in the fireplace. Next she tended to Trey’s wound the best that she could with hydrogen peroxide, and put a bandage on his forehead. He fell asleep while Monica heated a can of stew for them on the gas range.
Twenty-six
Carl took off, racing down the road and back onto the highway, pulling into a scenic view area and parking out of view to see if he was being pursued by the Mormons. While he waited, he looked in the back of the wagon and found a box of supplies which included a package of diapers. He opened it and put a diaper under his shirt where he was shot, then pressed his back against the car seat to try to stop the bleeding.
After close to an hour and three saturated diapers, he started feeling lightheaded from the loss of blood. No vehicles had passed by on the highway and he concluded that no one was pursuing him. Not yet anyway.
Dusk turned to dark as he waited. He needed to go somewhere to sleep for the night and tend to his bullet wound. He didn’t know how he was going to do that, and couldn’t think of anyone who could possibly help him.
He knew where to go for a place to sleep though – back to the tavern. There wasn’t much there for him and there was nothing special about it, but it’s where he’d last been, and like anyone, he was a creature drawn to the familiar. And there was plenty of booze and cigarettes – and food, if he didn’t mind eating chips and nuts, which he didn’t.
Back at the tavern, Carl added wood to the embers in the fireplace. It took him a while as he only used his right arm to carry wood. Using his left arm caused too much pain as it moved the bullet lodged in his left shoulder blade. His clothes were drenched so he carefully and slowly removed them then laid them in front of the fire. He took another diaper out of the pack and held it behind him as he leaned back against the warm stone wall beside the fireplace.
As soon as he was as comfortable as he was going to get, he wished he had thought to get a tall glass of beer before sitting down. He decided it could wait. He was weak and exhausted from the adrenaline rush during the shootout and the blood loss afterwards. As he drifted off to sleep, he wondered if his mother would help him with the gunshot wound, or would she still be angry at him for knocking her on her ass the last time he’d seen her.
***
After a moment of holding each other in silence, Angela finally pulled away from Jim.
“Let’s go inside where we can be more comfortable. I’ve never seen your room.” Her flirtatious smile was barely visible in the moonlight spilling into the car.
“Okay. There’s nothing to see but office stuff, but yeah, let’s go inside.” They got out of the car and Jim came around to her side. She linked their hands and they walked slowly to the lodge, each of them f
eeling that everything was different now. Their lives had been changed first by a nuclear explosion, and now they had just changed again with a kiss.
Jim opened the door and they entered the lodge still holding hands. Terry was just finishing up with the sorting job and looked up when they came. He was surprised to see them holding hands and looking love-struck.
As the couple walked past Terry, Jim said, “Seems kinda pointless to board up the windows but leave the front door unlocked.”
Terry didn’t have a comeback for Jim’s teasing. He just slowly swiveled his head, watching them as they crossed the main room and went down the hall toward the offices where the three of them had made bedrooms.
As he got up to lock the door, Terry muttered, “I should’ve seen that coming.”
When they reached Jim’s room, he bent down and picked up the candle next to the floorboard. He struck a match and lit the candle then opened the door. He guided Angela over to where his blankets were laid out and set the candle on the floor a few feet away. They sat down facing each other. Jim looked away, focusing on the small flame.
“Angie,” he said. “Are you sure you—“
“Shut up,” she cut him off, pushing him down and climbing on top of him, straddling him. “I don’t want to hear anything negative out of you.” She leaned down and kissed him. Her hair shrouded his face. He closed his eyes, wondering how long something this good could possibly last before he ended up hurting her somehow.
She raised herself up and removed her jacket, then her shirts, leaving on her bra for the moment. Jim gazed at her in the candlelight and she reached back to her feet, undid her laces and pulled off her shoes. After her shoes were off, she looked down at his smiling face with a smile glued on her own face. Jim couldn’t wait anymore and reached for her, pulling her close and wrapping his arms around her where he could reach the hook to undo her bra. He pulled it away and looked at her.
“You are so beautiful,” he whispered.
Angela blushed, hoping it didn’t show in the flickering candlelight. Jim put his left hand on her waist and reached for her with his right hand, gently fondling her left breast, running the back of his fingers against her smooth skin and drawing a circle around the edge of her areola. He lightly gripped her nipple between his knuckles and she sucked in a breath.
He lifted her up so he could get out from under her and quickly took off his jacket and shoes. She lay on her back wondering if this was really happening. Was she about to make love to Jim? She had dreamed of this day but never thought it would come. She knew it never would. But now… it was happening.
Jim straddled her with his knees beside her hips and leaned down to kiss her; one hand quickly returning to her breasts as their tongues explored each other’s mouths. Angela had never been happier or more physically aroused. She needed to feel more of him; to explore his entire body with her hands. She wrapped her arms around him, then slipped her hands up under his shirt then slid them up his back and felt long, thick ridges everywhere her hands touched.
“Jim, what are these—” she started to ask.
Jim pulled away from her and rolled over to lie on his back.
“It’s nothing!” he snapped. He sounded angry and distant. “I should’ve known this would happen.” Angela turned onto her side, looking at him with concern.
“Jim, what’s wrong? Nothing happened. We were just kissing and touching. There’s nothing wrong with that. Nothing at all.”
“I left my shirt on for a reason, Angela. I didn’t want you to see… or feel… what they did to me.”
Angela scooted closer to him and laid an arm across his chest with her hand on the side of his ribcage, holding him possessively. “Who, Jim? Your parents? Your foster parents? Whatever they did to you wasn’t your fault.”
“They ruined me, Angie; physically and mentally; inside and out. I told you I’m no good for you.”
“That’s ridiculous. You are not ruined! You may be in need of a good attitude adjustment, but no one ruined you. Don’t talk that way.”
Jim abruptly sat up, turning his back to her and lifting his shirt.
“Look! And that’s just my back. It continues down to my legs. I’m scarred from my shoulders to my thighs. Who could love someone who looks like this?” He pulled his shirt back down, covering the scars.
Angela came up close and wrapped her arms around him from behind.
“I can, Jim. I don’t care what they did to you. Whatever happened wasn’t because you’re bad. They didn’t make you unlovable.” She kissed the nape of his neck then lifted his shirt up and over his head. She thought he’d resist, but he sat there, totally still, taking shallow breaths.
Angela kissed his shoulders, then moved her hands to the back of his neck and massaged there as she kissed his shoulder blades. Her lips met with alternating smooth skin and scar tissue.
“I love you, Jim,” she said with her lips against his tortured back.
He suddenly turned around and kissed her fiercely, pulling her close to him, mashing her bare chest against his. Angela was happy that he had found his way through some emotional barrier and was embracing her now, physically and mentally. They heard a pounding on the front door of the lodge. They held still, listening, waiting. The pounding sounded a second time, like somebody very big was banging on the door.
Jim found his shirt and pulled it on while Angela searched for her bra.
“Wait here,” he said, and quickly left the room, running down the hall to the large room.
“Someone’s at the door,” Terry said.
“No shit. Give me a gun.”
Terry reached into a box on his left and pulled out a pistol. “You okay with a .45 APC?”
“It’s not my first choice, but yeah, I’ll take it.”
BOOM
BOOM
BOOM
They walked over to the door. Terry stopped to the right of the door and put his arm out to stop Jim from going any further. Terry whispered, “Never stand in front of a door when you don’t know who’s on the other side.” He gestured with his gun to indicate the reason why. They could get shot through a door.
“Who’s there!?” Terry yelled, louder than necessary, lowering the tone of his voice.
“It’s me, Bo. And my momma, Geraldine,” a voice replied.
Terry and Jim looked at each other quizzically. Jim thought, “Oh, it’s you, Bo. Why didn’t you say so?” but he just looked at Terry and waited to see what he would do.
Terry shrugged his shoulders and said, “What do you want?”
“We’d like to come in and dry off if we could. We’re soaked out here. Momma looks like somethin’ the cat drug in.” They heard a wet smacking sound on the other side of the door.
Terry whispered, “I’m going to open the door and see if it’s really just a guy and his mother. Step back a few paces and be ready to shoot.”
Jim backed up a few steps and tried to turn off his gun’s safety. “Just a second.” He wasn’t having any luck pressing down with his thumb on what he was sure had to be the safety.
“Hold on a second,” Terry yelled at the door. He stepped over to Jim and put out his hand for the gun. Jim handed it to him and Terry pressed down forcefully in the same place that Jim had been pressing and there was an audible click. He handed it back and returned to the door. He put his hand on the dead-bolt and looked at Jim, raising his eyebrows to ask if he was ready. Jim nodded.
Terry pulled the door open quickly with one hand and held his pistol pointing upward beside his head with the other. Standing on the porch was the tallest man he’d ever seen. He was taller than the doorway. The man stepped back and ducked to look in at Terry and Jim. Standing next to him was a woman who was dwarfed by the tall man but was only shorter than average at five feet, three inches.
The woman looked at Terry with disapproval dripping off of her face along with rainwater. “Well, praise the Lord! Will you let a couple of His children take shelter from the storm?” Th
e scowl never left her face, even as she praised the Lord.
Terry leaned his head over and looked to their right to make sure there was no one else out there. He lowered his gun and said, “Come on in.” He didn’t like that all of their recently acquired supplies were laid out on the floor and in boxes, but he didn’t want to make them wait outside while he and Jim stashed everything. “Have a seat by the fire. Jim, help me move this stuff out of the way.”
Jim put his gun in his waistband and Terry did the same. They both walked over and began moving boxes to the table. The man ducked down to enter the lodge and he and his mother left a trail of water as they walked over to the hearth, drawn to the heat of the fire and sat down. Both of them were shivering. Angela watched them from the hallway with her arms folded across her chest, her feet clad in socks.
After the floor was cleared of supplies, Terry pulled a chair out from the table, slid it a few feet toward the hearth, then turned it around and sat about ten feet away from the couple.
“So what brings you here – on foot and during a storm?”
The tall man answered, “We were heading back to our cabin...”
“My cabin,” his mother injected, looking at him as if he should clearly know that the cabin was hers, and hers alone. Jim was still standing by the table. He looked at the woman, considered the expression on her face and the way she talked to her son and decided right then that he didn’t like her at all.
“… When our car broke down.”
“You mean my car?” the woman asked, looking up at her son’s face.
“Yes, mother. Your car broke down.” He turned his head to look back at Terry. “So we started walking. That was several days ago. We’ve had to stop frequently because Momma has trouble with her knees.”
The woman looked at him with disapproval for revealing a private problem of hers to total strangers, but stopped short of smacking him.
“Then we saw a sign saying that there was a ski lodge, so we followed the road to the left like the sign said and here we are; cold, wet and thankful for your hospitality.”
In The End: a pre-apocalypse novel Page 12
