by Sweet, Dell
“It could get you killed,” I had said aloud. And it could, I agreed with myself, but that made no difference either. I had stood, drained the cup and set it down empty on the rail. A half hour later I had been winding through the stalled traffic of Arsenal street; heading out route 3 for Rochester...
Rochester NY: Johnny
Johnny sat quietly in the dark, his weapons gathered around him. He had gathered them from their own arsenals and they hadn't even missed them. They, the people running this section of Rochester, might think they had their act together, but they were nothing but amateurs. He had looked the weapons over several times. Thought out his plans more than a dozen times. There was nothing left but to do it.
He had seen enough to know what was going on in Rochester. The entire city had been divided into territories by different gangs. He had watched the city for the last two days and nights. Walking boldly where he wished in the daylight, sticking to the hard shadows through the night. He couldn't ask for a better picture.
The power was on still. He didn't know how that was possible or why it was possible, but in the scheme of things it made his work easier. People with lights weren't so concerned with people sneaking in. The lights gave a false sense of security at night. He had worked his way in and seen everything he needed to see, and then made his way back out in the gray light of morning that first day. Since then he had slipped easily back and forth across their lines as if they didn't even exist.
He had started with the wreck. It sat where he had left it, on the outskirts of the city, near the downtown entrance from East Avenue. He had spent the best part of two hours going over it and there were more than a few things he had missed.
The first, and major thing, was that the Jeep he, Lana and the others had been traveling in had not been directly hit. The one behind them had also not been directly hit... Scotty, Jan, and Lilly had been in that Jeep.
Both Jeeps had been destroyed just the same. There was a large area of asphalt gouged out, and the tar had melted around both vehicles. The fire had been serious and had probably killed anyone who had not escaped the Jeeps, but some of them had escaped the Jeeps. More than just him.
There were bones, blackened, and wet now from the near constant rain. The body parts he remembered seeing were gone, the dead, wild dogs, it didn't matter what had taken them. Even so there were not enough bones to account for everyone. It didn't mean that Lana was one of those that had made it out, it only meant some had. So he had set out to find out who might have survived and where they were.
The second night had paid dividends. He had followed a group returning on foot with a woman they had traded for and slipped right back into their protected area along with them. From there he had simply followed those they had bought in as they were pulled and shoved along the streets to a two story house off Culver Avenue.
The house was guarded, but it was guarded to make sure no one escaped, not to keep people from slipping in. And even that was slip shod. It was late the next day before he had seen her, and he had wept freely as they had dragged her from the buildings front door along with Scotty, Amber and a few others he didn't recognize. Either the others were somewhere else or they had already been killed or traded.
He had shuddered to think of what they might have been through over the last several days as he had made his escape and then finally decided to come back. It was too much guilt to take in, and so he shut it down and followed them as they were dragged through the fresh snow, barefoot he saw, to another building and turned over to armed men there.
His mind had screamed, 'Do something! Do something right now!' But his common sense had fought it down. That would be suicide. It would benefit no one. It would surely get him killed, and probably Lana and the others too if they realized that he had come here to free them.
They had not been long at the building, those that had bought them had stood around talking, low tones, subdued, it seems they were none too happy about their own circumstances. It had been on the way back, after they had brought them back out and were headed back to their prison, that Johnny had overheard part of their conversation.
Scotty was alive because he had told them he had skills with carpentry. They needed skilled workers. So far he had refused to work for them. They had beaten him several times. Most likely they would kill him soon if he didn't give in. He was probably holding out, enduring the beatings, hoping for some way out for the women, for himself too.
Lana and Amber were a different story. They had been brought over to be looked over by a rival gang who might purchase them as part of some trade. From the sounds of the conversation they had liked what they had seen. The deal would go down tomorrow if they decided to go with it: If he intended to get them out alive it would have to be tonight.
It had not taken long to gather what he needed. He had found weapons of every kind. Rifles, pistols, knives, hand grenades even. He had gathered them and bought them to the small wooded area in back of the house next door where he had been hiding watching the prison. There was nothing left to do.
A few minutes before, the guard had changed. The night shift consisted of only two guards, and they were already sharing a joint together out back of the building. He heard their low voices and laughter as he worked his way out of the woods, bringing only what he needed, around to the front of the house.
He hesitated at the front door. He was fairly certain there was no one inside, but he couldn't be positive. Anyone could have slipped in while he was out gathering weapons. He closed his eyes for a moment, shifted the pistol in his hand slightly, and then reached down and turned the knob.
The door swung open to a dark interior. Cold, no heat... No sounds. He stepped inside.
Rochester NY: Johnny
Midnight
It had almost gone without a hitch. It had taken him a few minutes for his eyes to adjust, but once they had he had set off through the house. He thought back on it now as he bent his weight to the shovel, digging more out of the bottom of the shallow grave...
As he had searched his ears had begun to tell him things too, they were upstairs, he could hear small creaks as body weight shifted on the floors above him. He could hear weeping from somewhere above him too. The sound made a sob catch in his own throat before he choked it back and headed for the stairs.
Scotty had been out in the open, tied to a post for the railing. Johnny had caught him in the process of trying to fight his way free. His mouth was gagged, but he immediately stopped his struggles when Johnny came into view at the top of the stairs. Johnny bent forward carefully, the step creaking loudly, and cut the bonds on his wrists. A second later he was passing Scotty a pistol as he worked to free his jaw up. Johnny passed him a canteen, and Scotty sipped carefully, his lips blistered and cut, before he handed it back. His voice was scratchy, rusted.
“Kill the ones out there?” Scotty asked in his whisper croak. His eyes were hard.
Johnny shook his head. “They're getting high... Won't be a problem... Where are the girls?”
Scotty nodded and headed down the hallway with Johnny following. He stopped in front of the door. “One of them went in a little while ago... Probably... Probably...” He shook his head, unable to continue.
Johnny whispered, “Don't lose it... We'll go on three, fast, but don't let the door make a lot of noise. Try to stab him, not shoot... Don't want to alert those others.” He held Scotty's eyes until he nodded.
Johnny turned the knob slowly and counted down quickly. His shoulder hit the door but it didn't give completely, just flexed, cracked loudly, and then sprang back at them. He cursed under his breath. “Take it down, take it fucking down,” he whisper croaked.”
They both hit the door with their shoulders and it shuddered, splintered and finally crashed opened. The guard inside was waiting, a gun in one hand, the form of a nude female beside him, a vague shape tied to a radiator across the room. The woman's hand rose and pulled the gun back and down. The gun went off as they were tacklin
g the man, and then everything went bad fast.
Johnny drew his knife across his throat to cut off a scream that had begun, but even he knew it was too late. Scotty scrambled up and made his way to the radiator and began untying the woman there. Johnny bent, pushed the man aside and saw Amber. She moved quickly and he pulled her to her feet. They were out the door seconds later, all armed with the pistols Johnny had bought, all ready, scrambling down the stairs two at a time. The front door burst in as they hit the bottom of the stairs and the two men that burst through never stood a chance. They ran over the top of them as they were still falling and spilled out into the night.
The whole area was on alert. The guards were out, dogs running everywhere, Johnny saw, but the dogs were no problem. It wasn't like the movies, the dogs didn't know who they were looking for.
They had managed to make it three blocks north, nearly out, before Johnny realized that Amber had been hit. She stumbled, he pulled her to her feet, but she stumbled again and when he looked back he saw the blood that covered her entire side and soaked her leg. Her breathing was harsh, ragged, and blood leaked from her mouth. There was no time, he bent and took her over his shoulder, hearing her cry out in pain as he did, but there had been no other option. They had made the blockade a few moments later and had, had to stop while they tried to figure a way around.
There were too many of them. Two dozen standing watch, but they were not trained to do it. Most of them had never hunted, didn't know how to watch, what to look for. Johnny had laid Amber on the ground and Lana had pulled her into her arms and held her, both crying silently. Behind him, several blocks back at the house where they had been held, the grenades he had rigged to a timer finally went off. The men scattered, ran, started to regroup and then began to run through the streets back to where they had been. Johnny and Scotty picked up Amber together and ran through the darkness, sticking to the deepest shadows for the next half mile until they were well beyond the city and the gangs that were out looking for them.
Johnny and Scotty collapsed onto the ground breathing hard, spent, while Lana held Amber as she died. Dawn had not been far away so they had taken refuge in a nearby house and waited the day away. No one had come near. They had rested up during that time and when it was dark once more they had left the shelter and brought Amber with them...
Johnny bent to the shovel once again. They had all taken turns, it was nearly done. He took a deep breath, stepped away from the hole and the others nodded. A second later they were lowering Amber into the hole.
She was dressed in clothes the Lana had taken from a house just a short time before. A long dress, her face pasty white and smeared with dried blood, but peaceful nonetheless. A half hour later they were back in the house ransacking it, looking for anything that might help them. They had a half mile to travel, a short distance, Johnny had thought when he had hidden the truck he had driven here in, but a long walk now that he knew there would be others out looking for them. They left a short time later and made their trip to the falling down garage next to a flattened diner where Johnny had hidden the truck.
The house had given them virtually nothing. No water. No food, a couple of coats and that was it. The truck was a welcome sight with its cache of food and water, and they had spent the next hour just sitting quietly, eating, replenishing their fluids, not talking.
“You were dead,” Lana said at last. “The guy went over, kicked you, was going to shoot you in the head, but he decided not to because you were dead.” Her eyes were bright, tears perched on the lids ready to fall. They fell as Scotty spoke.
“I couldn't do anything, Johnny. Nothing.”
Johnny caught his own emotions. They had been right on his sleeve for days, it seemed. He took a minute and composed himself.
“Alive. I was alive. I came to and thought all of you had died. I was in bad shape, bleeding, leg messed up... I thought you were all dead.” He stopped, gained his composure once more and then started again. “ Later, back in Watertown, I couldn't remember if I looked well enough, if I made sure you were dead, but I decided I didn't. I didn't, and it ate at me.” His throat tightened up and he had to stop. “So I came back,” He said at last.
Lana came to him and hugged him. “Thank you,” she said. “I am so glad you did.”
Scotty nodded and they all fell silent once more. Lana wiped at her eyes and then stood and walked away. “Sorry... They were about to trade us... Amber...” She choked. “Amber and me.” The tears nearly overtook her once more, but she fought them back.
“I was thinking west when I left Watertown... Now I don't know,” Johnny said half to himself.
“East coast... West coast,” Scotty said. “Doesn't matter does it?”
“Except we came from the west... We know the west is bad,” Lana said.
“Okay... So we go east... Toward the coast. We get there and decide what's next.” He looked down at his leg. Blood had seeped through the bandages. “Leg's shot,” he said by way of explanation. The silence held for a second.
“I should look at that,” Lana said.
“Later,” Johnny agreed. “Ready, Scotty?”
“Yeah. Yeah I am.”
“Okay, let's get going. I want to be as far away from this damn place as I can be by daylight tomorrow.” A few minutes later they were running as fast as they dared in the moonlight, heading east.
The old farm house
Johnny
We had stopped in a little town on the outskirts of Rochester toward evening that day. Trucks, food, something a little more substantial to travel with, and ammunition was always high on my list. I had my doubts about whether we would ever see the east coast. My leg was injured badly. There was nothing I could do for it except do my best to ignore it. I think I was simply happy that Lana was alive. I wasn't trying to think too far past that.
We were stopped in the back lot of a truck dealership loading a truck that Scotty would drive. Two trucks would be smarter than one, we had decided. If one broke down we would always have the other as a backup. I never saw the woman at all until she stepped out onto the moonlit asphalt, and I nearly shot her when she did...
Central New York
The woman stood shadowed by the edge of a pile of rubble. She had watched the three for several minutes now as they packed up their vehicle, obviously getting ready to leave the city. She needed to go herself, but were they the right ones to travel with? Two men and one woman, but the woman didn't appear to be anything more than an equal, not held against her will. It was probably the best chance she was likely to have. She stepped out into the moonlight and the conversation suddenly stopped as everyone froze.
“We should be...” The man stopped in mid-sentence as Alice stepped out into view. He swiveled quickly to face Lana, placing his body between her and the other woman.
Alice raised her hands quickly, out and away from her body. “I've got nothing,” she said. She remembered the small pistol she had tucked away almost as soon as she had spoken the words.
The woman stepped around the first man, and the other man had shifted to face her more fully, probably while she had been paying attention to the first man. A well oiled team, she thought. They had spent time together, it was obvious.
The woman motioned to the first man, “Go ahead, Scotty.” The man stepped forward, pushed his own weapon around to hang from his back on the leather strap that held it. His hands settled roughly on her shoulders and he began to pat her down.
“There's a bulge there,” Lana said quietly. She motioned at Alice's jeans where the crotch bulged slightly.
Scotty's hand stopped suddenly, just below where the shirt overhung Alice's waist. He felt her tremble. “It's small... I've been scared. Just something for safety,” Alice told them.
“But you said you had nothing,” Scotty said as his eyes held her own.
“What is it?” Lana asked.
“Says she's got a piece in her... I guess, her panties,” Scotty lowered one hand and carefull
y felt the small gun. Lana was at his side when he looked up. “Really small,” he said and shrugged. Lana passed him her pistol. “Keep it on her.”
Lana reached forward and freed the buttons that held the fly of Alice's pants. She reached in and came out with a small .22 pocket pistol. She looked it over.
“Five shot... .22 Mags,” Alice said.
Lana looked up. “I can see that. So why didn't you say something?”
“Your man was on his way down. You spotted it.” She shrugged. “Look. I'm alone. I had to have something. This town may look dead, but it's far from dead. I'm just looking for a way out. The road. Leave this place. It's been... It's been bad.” her eyes seemed to cloud at the end. “Mind? It's a bit cold.” she looked down at her open fly.
“Go ahead,” Lana said.
Alice buttoned the fly back and then took a deep breath. “So?”
“So, What's your name,” Lana asked.
“Alice... You?”
“Lana... Johnny, Scotty,” she nodded to each with her head. “I guess she's okay,” she told Scotty. Scotty lowered the gun and then handed it back to Lana a second later.
“We're headed for the city,” Johnny told her.
“Syracuse?” Alice asked.
“No... New York... Manhattan,” Johnny said quietly. “Why should we make room for you, Alice. Especially since you didn't want to tell us about this gun?” He had taken the pistol from Lana and was turning it over in his hand. It was very small and didn't seem capable of doing much harm.
“It will kill you well enough,” Alice said as if reading his thoughts. “It's a bad world. You need another shooter. Who knows what you're going to run into between here and there.” She paused and then nodded at the pistol. “You can see I'm resourceful.” She met Johnny's eyes when they swung suddenly up to her own. “I'm not dangerous unless someone is trying to hurt me,” she finished quietly.
