Unrest

by Wendy Higgins

  As I handed out tin cups of soup, I could tell everyone was just as haggard with hunger as me by the way they tipped them back and slurped until every drop was consumed. After we finished, everyone drank one-third of a bottle of water. Then we were all quiet. In fact, other than the light rush of breeze over the rocks, it was incredibly silent outside. My head felt a fraction better.

  “Damn,” Texas Harry said. “I could eat a whole fucking cow right now.”

  Tater and Rylen were quiet, but the other six guys proceeded to list all of the things they could devour at this moment. I saw Remy slip away, arms crossed over her chest. Since I didn’t really want to stand around and think about all the food we weren’t eating, I decided to follow. She climbed half the rocky hill and sat on a jutting red piece, leaving room for me to sit beside her. My hands were dirty from climbing, so I brushed them down my thighs.

  We stared out at the spiky Joshua trees and cacti brush that dotted the barren landscape leading to distant striated mountains. So much beauty made it hard to believe there was a war going on.

  “Who do you think they are?” I asked. “The DRI. They have to be some organization or something, right? But who? Some crazy, rich cult? How were they able to do this?”

  She shook her head, as bewildered as me. “They look . . . I don’t know . . . like your average Americans or something. Above average, actually. Or maybe Europeans? Beautiful tanned people with money. And so many of them are women.”

  I felt my forehead scrunching as I thought about our mysterious enemy. For the life of me, I could not figure them out.

  A breeze made Remy tighten her arms over her chest. She wore a gray tunic sweater over a black tank.

  “Is that the warmest thing you’ve got?” I asked.

  “Yeah.” She sighed. “I don’t know what we’re going to do. We’ll be out of gas soon, and since we’re staying off main roads there are, like, no gas stations anywhere.”

  Worry pinched my gut. Neither one of us needed to state the obvious—that we might have to end up hiking a hundred miles, in the cold, with no food or warm clothes.

  “We’ll be okay,” I tried to assure her. “We’ll make it.”

  She nodded and stared out. “I keep thinking of my dad. About how we were always fighting, right up until the end.”

  “Rem, don’t do that to yourself,” I said softly.

  “I can’t help it. He just wanted me to be good. To focus on the bigger picture of my life, but I was caught up on having fun and wanting people to like me. I did what I wanted to do and focused on me.” She studied her twined fingers. “I never made him proud.”

  “Stop.” I turned enough to look at her. “It’s okay that you let yourself have some fun. You’re such a good person. I know he saw that.”

  “I’m not telling you this so you’ll say I’m good. I’m just . . . I need to change. For me. I feel like everyone but you only thinks I’m fun when I’m drinking. And guys only like me for what I’ll give them. I know it’s stupid to be thinking about this when the world is coming to an end, or whatever’s going on here, but look at the other night!” The night with Tater. She waved her arms out. “Even when things are falling apart around us, I’m still making bad decisions. I have to stop.”

  “You’re being too hard on yourself.”

  “No.” She shook her head. “This morning when Matt brought me that stupid M&M, I almost kissed him. I almost pulled him into the backseat of the car with me, because I felt like I needed to thank him. Like I owed him something. Do you feel that way when a guy is nice to you?”

  “Um . . .” No.

  “I didn’t think so.” She rubbed her face.

  I put an arm around her and pulled her close, putting my head on her shoulder. I’d seen the aftermath of a lot of patients whose lives had been changed after they had a near-death experience, or lost a loved one. Sometimes monumental events sparked big changes in life, good or bad. This was normal.

  “I love you, no matter what,” I told her. “And I support you.”

  “Thank you,” she whispered.

  We sat there, quiet under the gray winter sky of the desert. It made me wonder how many others were out there like us. Lost. Grieving. Looking for survivors. Remy pinched my arm and I jumped, then looked where she pointed. On the next hill over, Rylen had climbed and was standing, looking out. Watching him did so many things to me. I wondered what he was thinking. Probably about Livia.

  I sat back and looked at my hands. Remy nudged me, trying to get me to go talk to him, but I shook my head. Alone time was scarce these days, so I would let him have his.

  “Oh, my gosh,” Remy whispered. My eyes flew to Rylen again to find him taking off his shirt. I sucked in a ragged breath. Remy’s claws sank into my forearm as we watched him staring out at the view. Even having lost weight, he was still amazingly fit. He shook out his T-shirt, turned it inside out, and slid it back over his head. I suppose that was his version of changing into something clean.

  He turned and caught sight of us, lifted a hand. We both gave small waves in return. Then we climbed down and dusted ourselves off. Time to go. Daylight was burning. Rylen met us at the bottom and walked with us. His arm brushed mine, and I wrapped my arms around my middle.

  “Neither of you brought a coat, did you?” he asked.

  I shook my head and Remy said, “I don’t even own a coat.” I did, for our rare family excursions into the mountains, but it was at home in the back of my closet. Home. My heart ached with longing as the comfort of the word rushed over me. Rylen said nothing, but looked thoughtful.

  Around the side of the hill, the three of us halted at the sight of Tater sitting on the ground, his knees pulled in, head down. Rylen and I looked at each other, knowing we should probably let him have a minute alone, but Remy went forward as if to comfort him. At the sound of her footsteps, Tater’s head snapped up. He jumped to his feet.

  “I’m fine,” he said gruffly.

  Remy stopped and bit her lip as Tater rushed past her, back toward the others.

  “It’s not you,” I assured her. “He just needs some time.”

  She swallowed hard and nodded. The three of us walked slowly.

  When we returned to camp I saw Tater sitting in the driver’s seat, his head leaned back with his eyes closed. The other guys had wiped the pan and all of the tin cups clean, and were packing everything away again. Texas Harry opened the map and laid it on our hood. He patted the side of the vehicle and called for Tater to get his ass out there, which he did.

  “We’re here.” Tex pointed a thick finger at southwest Utah. “And we need to get here, in Great Salt Lake Desert.” His finger trailed up to northwest Utah. “That’s another three hundred miles. We can follow roads that parallel main routes, but we gotta get close enough to a city to raid a gas station. It might take a few tries to find one with gas and a generator.” He looked around with eyebrows raised, as if asking if we were up for it. We all nodded. It frazzled my nerves to think about, but we had to do it.

  “Luckily, Utah is mountainous,” Texas Harry said. “Plenty of places to hide if we need to get out of sight.”

  “We gotta watch for those rocks when we’re driving, though,” Devon said. “Mama’s van can’t handle off-roadin’ with all our heavy asses in there.”

  “Not as heavy anymore,” New York Josh said, hiking up his camouflaged pants and pulling them out to show the inches he’d lost and the top of his blue boxer briefs over a strip of toned stomach. I noticed Remy tear her eyes away and stare pointedly in the direction of the mountains. These guys really needed to keep their shirts down.

  “Let’s head out,” Texas Harry said. “Tater, if you need anything, just signal.”

  Tater nodded. His face still appeared tight.

  We were silent in the car as we traveled the dusty road. Remy chewed her nails and I bit my lip. I wasn’t sure how I’d been able to sleep that morning, because driving was tense. An electric feeling stretched between us in the
car as we each stared out of the windows, watching the distance for any signs of movement or dust clouds that would signal vehicles. The longer we drove with no sign of anything, the more I felt my blood pressure rising. Periodically, I stared from the back window to be sure no one was following.

  After an hour, Devon took a dirt road turnoff and the ride became bumpy for the next twenty minutes. They drove slower, so as not to kick up too much dirt. We were surrounded by low hills of brown on one side, and a plain of shrubbery and scrawny trees on the other.

  “Slowing,” Tater said.

  “We’re coming up on a town near the interstate.” Rylen had a map open on his lap.

  Both vehicles slowed significantly as two small buildings came into sight. Both were nondescript, one-story box buildings, but one had gas pumps in front of it.

  “Bingo,” Tater whispered.

  Please, please, please, I silently begged. Let this work.

  Devon pulled to the side of the road. I could make out Matt’s stocky form leaning over in the front seat with the binoculars, scouting. Back behind the gas station were two old trailer homes and a rusty car on blocks. Everything was still and quiet. Ghost town.

  Creeping forward, we made our way to the gas station and parked at the pumps. My heart pounded as we looked around. Farther down the road were more small buildings and a scattering of trailer homes in the distance, but not a soul was in sight. We quietly got out, but left our doors open so as not to make too much noise.

  Matt stood outside now, looking out with the binoculars.

  “We need you inside, tech boy,” Texas Harry said to him in a low voice.

  “I’ll keep watch,” Tater offered. Matt handed over the binoculars.

  Remy waited in the car with her door open. I leaned against the inside of her door as the guys smashed another window to get in the building. With every loud smack of the hammer, I flinched, the sound too loud in the silence of the abandoned town.

  “This place freaks me out,” Remy whispered.

  I agreed. A gust of wind whipped up a small funnel of dust at the edge of the road just as a shattering blast rang out from the gas station window breaking. Mutters and quiet laughter came from the guys as they pushed their way into the shop. I ran my fingers roughly up and down my legs, digging into the thin denim, trying to scratch away the antsy sensation inside of me.

  “I need to stretch my legs,” I said. “Want to come?”

  She shook her head, so I let her be. I walked to the edge of the building and peeked around the corner. Finding nothing but dirt and broken pavement, I walked to the back where the dumpster was. Surprisingly, it didn’t smell bad. I moved closer, wondering what kind of stuff might have been thrown out last when I heard a sound—the crunch of gravel underfoot. My entire body went stock still and I held my breath as a man stepped out from behind the dumpster.

  He was no DRI. This was a local man, unshaven with messy strands of brown and gray hair. His clothes hung loosely over a rounded belly, which must have been a significant beer gut a month ago. I stepped back to put comfortable distance between us, but heard another crunch and turned to see a second, much thinner man come out from the other side, boxing me in between the building and dumpster.

  I tamped down my instinct to scream. These were just men. Survivors who’d managed to evade the DRI round ups.

  “Hi,” I said, damning my jittering voice. But I couldn’t ignore the gut feeling telling me to get far away.

  The thin man’s eyes traveled my body from top to bottom and he grinned, showing several gray teeth. That’s when I noticed the baseball bat he leaned against. I inhaled sharply.

  “Nothin’ to be scared of,” said the older guy, stepping closer. “Been a while since we seen anyone in these parts, but you look safe enough.”

  “I need to get back to my friends.” My fleeing instinct pushed me to try to pass, but the thin man grabbed my arm and pushed me toward the other man.

  “Don’t touch me,” I warned. This time I barreled past him, only to scream when my head was yanked backward with a sting of pain. The old bastard had me by the ponytail, and then his hand was around my face, covering my mouth. I elbowed backward, jabbing his ribcage to make him grunt. The thinner guy in front of me moved forward and I kicked out, barely grazing his thigh as he jumped away. The older guy pulled me hard against his body, surprisingly strong as he pinned my arms. That’s when I lost it. I let my body go heavy as I flailed my legs and thrashed my head back and forth. The old guy cursed low. His friend swung out with his free hand and punched my stomach below where the guy held me.

  My body lurched inward and I couldn’t take in a breath through my nose. The older guy took this as an opportunity to lift his hand from my mouth and smack the side of my face as hard as he could. Stinging, blinding pain rang out, and his hand was over my mouth again. I finally regained my breath, huffing through my nose and letting a muffled scream die on his palm.

  “Shut the hell up,” whispered the skinny man, keeping his distance and brandishing the bat. “Or you’re dead.”

  “Amber!” Remy’s voice split the air. She stood at the corner of the building, staring with huge eyes. And then she was gone, screaming, “Tater!”

  “Fuck,” muttered the older man at my ear. “How many of there are you?”

  I couldn’t think. My face was swelling on one side. He never took his hand from my mouth to let me answer. I tried to stomp down on his foot, but he wore hard boots, and he laughed at my effort.

  “They had two cars,” said the younger man.

  “No matter.” A tell-tale click sounded in my ear just before cold steel touched my temple. “It’s all ours now. Get ready, Rick.” I felt my last reserves of energy draining as my body went rigid with terror. This could not be happening.

  Seconds later, the pounding of feet hitting the ground filled the air before their bodies came skidding around the corner. All at once, as my friends took in the scene, their hands went up. I stared at Rylen and nearly passed out at the look of sheer panic on his face. Remy stood in the back.

  Rylen took a cautious step forward, his hands still up. “Hold on now.”

  “You shut your mouth and listen up,” the man named Rick shouted. “If you want your gal back safe and sound, here’s what you’re gonna do. First, drop your car keys on the ground.”

  “The keys are in the vehicles,” Devon said with care.

  “Is that so? I’ll have to check that out for myself. Right now, every one of you’s gonna walk down that road with your hands on your head.”

  Rylen stepped forward, holding his hands higher.

  “Not another move!” yelled the big man, right in my ear. He pressed the gun harder into the side of my head. My heart galloped. These guys were crazy and desperate. I knew for a fact that Texas Harry kept a gun on him, but he wouldn’t dare pull it while they had me hostage.

  “Okay. All right.” Rylen remained motionless. “Let her come with us. You can have the cars and all our stuff. Just let her walk away with us.”

  The old guy chuckled and pressed his belly into my back. “I’ll let her go when we’re done with her.”

  I was going to puke against his hand and choke on it.

  Rylen’s face turned stony and his eyes honed in on the guy. He gave a nod, which I didn’t understand, until a bang split the air, ringing in my ears. My neck felt slick with wetness as the tight arms around me loosened and with a thump, the old guy hit the ground, banging into my calves. I was frozen in place. An echoing whoosh filled my ears, like they were clogged and I couldn’t hear properly.

  Rick’s eyes bugged out and his holler sounded far away as he focused on something behind me. He swung the bat with his skinny arms, but a brown flash was there, grabbing the man’s wrist to stop his swing, and smacking the side of his head with something metal, hard enough to make him tumble to his knees.

  Tater. Grandma’s gun.

  I touched the thick wetness at my neck and looked at my strangely
maroon hand, then down at the old man splayed on the ground. Half his skull was gaping, spilling bright red flesh onto the cracked pavement. Bodies suddenly rushed all around me, yelling. I toppled over to the ground and scuttled away.

  Arms banded around me, picking me up, cradling me and running for the second time in less than a day.

  “You’re all right.” Rylen’s voice sounded muted, though I felt him all around me. “It’s okay now.”

  I began to shake violently as I stared at my bloodied hand.

  “Get it off me,” I tried to say, but it sounded weird with half of my lips swollen and my ears still ringing.

  Rylen ran into the gas station, back to the bathroom where a few paper towels were left. He sat me down on the closed toilet seat and together we did our best to wipe me clean. My hands still trembled, and I noticed his did too. We filled the sink with bloodied napkins until there were no more. I still felt dirty, but at least the whooshing in my ears had begun to subside.

  Quick footsteps sprinted into the shop and I whimpered. Rylen looked over his shoulder.

  “It’s Remy.”

  She burst into the room and rushed me, hugging me despite how gross I was.

  “Amber!” She pulled back to look at me and hugged me again.

  “I have blood on me,” I tried to say. She stood and looked me over, lifting my sagging ponytail and swallowing hard. Then she ran a soft finger over my cheek and upper lip.

  “Turn around a little,” she whispered. I did, and she took my rubber band out.

  “Don’t touch it,” I said. “I’ll do it.” I reached up, but she gently pushed my hand down.

  “Let me.” She began picking things out of my hair and flinging them to the ground. Her breathing hitched over and over, and I knew she was trying not to heave. She pulled my hair up into another tight ponytail and wiped her trembling hands down her jeans, leaving pink streaks. I leaned my face into her belly and she pulled me close by the shoulders, rubbing my back.