The Long Way To Reno

by Mix, Michelle

  He stared at me for a full minute, then rolled his eyes as he rose from the couch in an outraged huff. “Fucking ridiculous! Go back to bed! Rest up!”

  “The human race is dying, Harley,” I reminded him, examining my nails. “Someone’s got to contribute to it.”

  “To talk like that about a – a teenager, a young girl - !” he was so outraged, he sputtered and stammered crazily, waving his hands around. He looked red in the face, so maybe what I said was wrong.

  “Right now I can’t think that way. I’m way more focused on finding my ‘rents than finding love,” I said, turning in my seat to look at him. “I’ve already factored myself out of this re-population situation. I thought that, by now, you knew what sort of person I am.”

  “I get that now!” he snapped.

  “I’m just watching out for your future!” I protested. I saw that I’d crossed the line, and huffed, resuming my earlier position to look at the fireplace once more.

  He was once again in my line of vision. “Bet it would be different if Benson were around.”

  I curled hair behind my ear, finding it a huge shame that Benson was now one of the ‘bad guys’. Frowning mournfully, I nodded to agree. “Yeah…damn it.”

  He stared at me for a few minutes – long, silent minutes. Minutes that made me turn around and look at him, trying to capture him within one eye’s working vision. I was startled to realize that, sometime during the night, I could see out of the heavy slit in my other eye.

  “You know what?”

  We were talking in loud whispers to keep from waking Emmy, but he raised his voice slightly to be heard clearly. “I think you do this deliberately. Make yourself into this bad person, to keep people from getting close to you. I’ve watched you at work – how you talk to those other guys. Let them in close, then keep them at arm’s length when you see they’re getting too familiar with you.”

  “Stalker,” I commented, twisting in my seat to give him an outraged expression.

  “And you’re doing that now. Because there is no way someone with your attitude, with your way of thinking, actually exists. I get that this is an apocalypse of some kind, that people are dying left to right – I get that it’s hard to get close to somebody like this, but to talk like this? Act like this? It’s fucking overkill!”

  I frowned, affronted. “I told you before, Harley, I don’t pretend. I’m actually that despicable. And seeing it now, on full display, makes me feel kinda bad for other people.”

  Another full minute of angry eye contact. Then he whirled and stalked off down the hall, saying, “Well, you should!”

  I heard him enter the boys’ bedroom at the end of the hall, shutting the door tightly enough to have Brandon give a low ‘woof!’ at the sound. Moments later, his heavy weight and his doggy toenails were catching in the carpet as he investigated the trouble our whispers caused. Once he caught sight of me, he stared at me for a few moments, then snorted as if exasperated.

  I frowned after him as well, sitting back in my seat and looking around myself. Wondering if it were officially my turn to keep watch.

  : :

  Later on, as I was yawning and searching the kitchen for some sort of caffeine stimulant, I heard Brandon walking back up to the front room. He scratched at the front door with a light whine, so I assumed he needed to go out. Abandoning my search, I accompanied him outside, where the horses had taken post in the front yard and gave us sleepy looks. Brandon ignored them, setting off for a point beyond the front gate, while I shivered and attempted to curl back into myself. The cold air made my lungs ache, and through there were coyotes yelping in the distance, to which Brandon answered with low barks, there didn’t seem to be much going on out there.

  One of the horses snorted, shuffled his hooves on the dead grass – the other two lifted their heads and looked in the direction the sounds were coming from. It was really cold, so I hissed at Brandon to hurry up. He took his time finding the proper spot to do his business, so I pranced in place, trying to get warmth in me when the horses suddenly stalked away in a group, whinnying and tossing their heads. I figured the coyotes were coming closer, as Brandon stiffed, his tail sticking straight out, ears up. He then took off in a loping run, woofing lightly.

  I really didn’t know animals very well, so I didn’t really give it too much attention. I figured that they were bothered by the coyotes, and I sighed low, turning to go back in side when I heard low human voices greeting Brandon. I froze, straining my ears to locate where the sound came from, then hurried away from the porch. Adrenaline was already coursing through me, figuring that we were about to engage into another encounter with the soldiers when I caught sight of three guys standing around the dog, petting the traitor with amicable hands and looking cold. I didn’t recognize them, but if I had hackles, they were up pretty high.

  I ran back into the house, shut and locked the door, and then hurried off to the room where Harley was sleeping. I roused him with a slam of his door and a hiss that people were here, and as he scrambled off the bed, he hit the floor in an awkward flop of limbs. I went in to wake Emmy, hearing the sounds of the front door being tried.

  Hearing Harley arm himself, I encouraged her to hide in the closet – to escape out the window once the alarm was raised. As she pulled on her jacket and other accompanying things – a Jansport backpack was already filled with things she’d found earlier, to Harley’s encouragement - I looked over at Harley. Those people wanted to get into the house, and were doing what they could to open that door.

  “I’ll meet them first,” he then said, looking harassed. “They’re not the soldiers?”

  “No. Civilians.”

  “Brandon didn’t even try to protect us?” Emmy complained low, as I unlocked the window.

  “Maybe they just need shelter for the night,” Harley whispered, probably more to himself as he ventured towards the front. He then stopped as I followed, aiming to find my Fubar. “No. Stay there. Stay out of sight, stay with Emmy. Just in case.”

  I frowned at the possibilities, but nodded. Instead of going to Emmy, though, I lingered in the hall to watch him go to the front door. Amidst all the banging, the sounds of a window being tried near the fireplace, Harley hollered out a greeting. The banging stopped, and a startled greeting was given in return.

  Emmy hissed at me from the bedroom, and I waved at her to shut up, waiting for something to happen. I didn’t feel any terrible need to take off running, just this drumming anxiety in what was going to happen next. I was wary of other travelers, but at the same time, had accepted that we weren’t the only survivors just trying to get through another night.

  Harley opened the door, and a quiet male voice asked if we had enough room to let them stay. They’d been traveling on I-80 by foot since Fernley, where they had to abandon their car. They’d left the freeway because they’d seen some soldiers gunning down other survivors – Harley felt something for their plight, because he let them in. They were grateful for it, coming in with breath on their hands and anxious thank-yous while the place was given a sweeping examination of weary eyes.

  I swallowed hard, eyeing them, hoping they weren’t deranged like Jeff and his crew, and hoping they weren’t the bad sort of travelers that survived by ‘doing what they had to do’. Anxiety made my breath heavy, and before they could spot me, I made my way back to Emmy.

  “Three of them,” I said. “Came from the freeway, where those guys were killing more survivors.”

  Emmy looked as anxious as I felt, but she nodded. “What should we do?”

  “Harley’s talking to them.”

  “They’re not all bad people, right?” Emmy then asked. “We’ve met other people that weren’t bad.”

  “I dunno,” I said in reply, hands over my stomach as anxiety continued to weigh on me.

  She grasped my arm. “Do you have any feelings on them? Like – like you did back there?”

  “No…not really,” I admitted.

  We looked up as Har
ley came into the room, looking concerned. He stumbled around until he found the candle we’d been using. Lit it clumsily with a lighter that he kept in his inside jacket pocket. Once the flame grew, he set the candle on the nearby vanity. “You guys all right? I let them in, to sleep and rest. They’re trying to get to Reno, too.”

  “They aren’t bad?” Emmy asked cautiously. “They don’t look scummy or anything?”

  “No…they look like us. Tired and hungry.” He looked us over in the dim candlelight. “Stay in here, then, both of you. It’ll be different when the sun’s up.”

  “Can you get Brandon for me?” Emmy asked.

  “Sure. Get some sleep, okay? I’ll be up.”

  “You sure?” I asked low.

  He shrugged, shouldering his rifle over his shoulder.

  “Don’t show them how many guns you have,” I murmured.

  “Right, right. Go to sleep.”

  After a while, hearing the men’s voices as they related to Harley what they’d been through, Emmy and I relaxed just enough to remove our coats, to lay on the bed with our weapons resting nearby. We stared up at the ceiling and said nothing. Eventually, Emmy fell back asleep, Brandon rolling onto his side to heave a tired sigh.

  I stared up at the ceiling and hoped mom and dad hadn’t taken the freeway to come get me.

  Chapter Ten

  The three men were still sleeping – two in the boys’ room, one in the girls, and they didn’t even budge as Emmy and I crept out of the room and made our way to the kitchen later that morning. Harley looked bedraggled, but he accompanied us to the pantry we’d found off to the side, near the garage. It was a very small room – maybe five feet wide, five feet with six large, spacious shelves – the cement floor had spilt rice, flour and other dusty material on it. The ceiling looked also to be cement or some other hard substance, with a single naked bulb working to allow visibility. It was stocked full of dry goods.

  A few hours later, Emmy scooted over to us as we discussed routes into Reno from various angles when one of the men emerged cautiously from the hall.

  His eyes were slightly wide as he looked at Emmy and I, and I found myself glaring at him. “I thought you were by yourself, man,” he said to Harley. “Where’d they come from?”

  “Are we not allowed?” I asked snidely.

  “No, just…” he exhaled heavily, sat slowly down on the couch. He was an older man, with a head full of light brown fuzz. He was wearing nurse’s scrubs and a trench coat, and when he shifted about, I caught sight of his holster. His mustache was heavier than his stomach paunch – I figured him to be Sheriff’s of some kind, maybe a firefighter. They all looked the same to me in this area.

  He indicated with a hand back at the hall. “One of my traveling companions, he came from…the prison out there. Just…he’s been there for a couple of years, for stabbing a rival from an opposite gang – “

  I joined Emmy at glaring at Harley.

  “ – but I’m just saying. He’s not a bad guy.”

  “Not a ‘bad guy’? You just said he was locked up!” Emmy pointed out.

  “It’s different when you’re trying to survive in this shit, girl. He hasn’t done anything wrong, but try to survive.”

  Largely uncomfortable with the group, I asked, “So will you be staying long?”

  He shook his head. Shifted on the couch. “No. I’ve got a wife and kids out in Reno that I need to get to. He’s got family. The other guy’s got a boyfriend. We traveled together because we got through some shit. It doesn’t matter what our past was. Just trying to get by.”

  “There are more soldiers in that area, in Lockwood,” Harley said. “They’re gathering people.”

  “They were shooting people the other night! We don’t even know why…they were supposed to protecting us, huh? Instead they’re shooting us. I figured we’d follow this road and hit Hidden Valley.”

  “We’ll be going through Spanish Springs,” Harley said, which was news to me. “Through those hills. It shouldn’t be that hard.”

  “There’s no cover there. It’s open,” the man said, shaking his head. “You’d be better off going the same way as us.”

  “We already decided our way,” I interrupted firmly. “That’s where we’re going.”

  “All right…but I’m just saying, there’s nothing but brush and rocks back there. Especially after that fire a couple of years back.” He heaved a sigh, clapped his hands atop of his knees. “I’m starving, folks. I haven’t eaten anything since Fernley.”

  “Go ahead, have the kitchen,” Harley said, as I followed Emmy out of the kitchen. “There’s a full pantry down that hall, there, too.”

  “After we eat, we’ll be on our way. The girls look skittish,” he said with a chuckle. I noticed, after he passed Harley on his way down the hall, that he was at least 50 pounds heavier than our guy, and at least four inches taller. Just seeing that made my stomach cramp with anxiety again.

  : :

  “Where is Spanish Springs from here?” Emmy asked. She was seated atop a fence, where we were watching the horses run and play with each other between feedings. The area was so quiet and still that our activity seemed so freaking loud. I was extremely paranoid that something or somebody could hear us, but I don’t think there was a way to make the horses play quietly.

  Harley had made sure, during the time the guys were sleeping, that we had all the weapons we needed to have an advantage. Emmy had taken all sharp and pointy things and hidden them somewhere without telling us – I’d discovered this when I was looking for something to cut my apple with.

  “Spanish Springs is in that direction,” I said to Emmy, pointing.

  Harley redirected my arm, while Brandon barked and pranced around a tree, where he’d trapped an animal of sorts. “That’s north. This is west. It’s east of Sparks.”

  “I can’t tell guy direction,” I muttered, trying to place directions by the use of the freeways. 395 North went that way, and 395 South was that way, and I-80 to Reno was West, and we were on the East side of I-80…

  “It’s…pretty sparse,” he then added, frowning.

  “Are we really going that way?” I asked low. “It makes sense going in from this direction.”

  “But we don’t want to go the same way as they are,” he reminded me.

  “There are vehicles here. Let them have one so they can get there faster,” I suggested.

  “Why don’t we use one?”

  “Because the aliens will see us. Harley.”

  “All right, Edith,” he said with heavy exasperation.

  Emmy whipped around to stare at me, saying, “Is that your name -?”

  Seeing that she cut herself off to look beyond us, both of us alerted to the front door opening and shutting, Harley and I turned and saw another guy walking out, making an exaggerated show of enjoying the sunlight. He was a short guy with short hair, a shadow of a beard along his jawline, and clothes that were pretty indicative of the Lovelock Correctional Facility. Emmy and I stared at him, then looked at Harley.

  “Hey,” the guy greeted us, looking tired and wary. “What’s up? What you guys lookin’ at?”

  “Just figuring our way out,” Harley answered, as Emmy joined us, standing behind us while she fiddled with her hair and gave the guy a wary stare.

  The guy nodded with agreement. “Seriously, man. I just wanna get home. It’s been awhile, but my family’s all I thought about since the prison was slammed, man. What happened to you guys?”

  He was Hispanic, I think. He looked a little young, so maybe his crime was committed when he was a teen. He didn’t look interested in scoping us out, looking out and around the area with a wide-eyed look comparable to a lost person in a new place – my anxiety didn’t feel as strong with him as it did with the older guy. Despite the fact that he was in prison, he really didn’t make me feel uncomfortable. I guess that was a good sign – some of the peeps I’d played as video game characters, read about in graphic novels, often tur
ned out to be good guys despite their crimes.

  Oh, how stupid that sounded.

  “We were caught at work,” I answered, before Harley could. “You should take advantage of the clothes here, dude. Running around like that might make people nervous.”

  “I know, huh?” he agreed, looking down at the one piece. “Man, I stabbed a guy up because he was talking shit about some friends of mine. I’ve had a lot of time to think about how stupid I was. I ain’t no animal, or anything, either. I’ve seen some shit since I got here, so…I get why you guys are, like, scared of me. Trust me, I ain’t that desperate.”

  Brandon ‘woofed’ in one direction, ears up and tail straight, looking towards the freeway. Scanning the area, we couldn’t see or hear anything that sounded unusual, and Brandon lost interest in whatever it was that had captured it in the first place. He resumed sniffing around the trees, and we continued talking.