He whistled to the other.
Both of them were about twenty feet from the shelf that Naomi hid behind. She covered her mouth, trying to mask her breathing.
One of the men tapped his toe in the embers.
“From last night,” he concluded.
“You think there’s more than two?” the second man asked.
The first one shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. It’s our place now.”
The second man stopped sifting through the blankets.
The woman wheeled the shopping cart out of the first snack store.
The older man said to her, “Woman, what are you doing? We need juice, too.”
Head low, the woman spun the cart around and rolled back in.
A loud, hacking cough rang out from the ladies’ bathroom.
Naomi felt her heart sink as every eye looked that way.
The young bearded man stopped scrutinizing the blanket and joined his mustached partner.
They started to the bathroom.
Staying by the exit, White Beard kept his hand close to his high-powered revolver. It was a beautiful gun, too heavy for normal person to conceal and carry. Naomi guessed he was a collector. If that was the case, she had to guess he was an active shooter, too.
As the men neared the bathroom, thought about Becca, her husband, and Cathleen. She swallowed down her fear the best way she could. Taking a deep breath and counting down from three, she found enough resolve to foolishly rise up with her hands raised above her head. “Hello?”
Every eye turned away from the bathroom and to her. She wondered how she must look. Her coat was dirty. Her hair was a mess. She had no makeup and hadn’t showered two days. That wouldn’t be a big deal if she hadn’t spent all that time running around, getting into fights, watching fires, etc.
No one had drawn their weapon yet, but Naomi still kept her hands raised in a submissive manner. To mask her fear, she smiled nervously. “I see you guys had the same idea as me.”
The stranger exchanged looks, saying nothing.
Naomi lowered her arms and elaborated. “Looting the rest stop.”
The men went tense at the word. The woman with the shopping cart looked like she’d been caught red-handed. The old man with large chrome revolver took a step forward. The breeze moved through the open door behind him and splashed against his jacket and long white hair. “And who are you?”
“Naomi,” she answered confidently, hoping that her calm would put the men at ease. “I’m here with a few friends and my grandfather. Our car broke down yesterday and we thought we’d crash here for the night.”
The men didn’t seem convinced.
Naomi yelled to the bathroom. “Grandpa! You can come on out now.”
The younger bearded man kept an eye on the bathroom. Mustache stared at Naomi with a slightly confused look on his face.
Naomi sighed. “My grandfather said he wanted to use the ladies’ room. Softer toilet paper, you know.”
The younger bearded man chuckled.
Naomi smiled widely at him. Good. That meant she was getting to them.
Fergus rolled out of the bathroom. He bounced a stern look between Naomi and the strangers. “Somehow the toilet paper is crappier than the ones in the men’s room.”
The strangers smiled at each other.
Naomi directed her attention to the old man with the revolver. “Feel free to take whatever you guys need. We’re not cops.”
The two younger men turned to the patriarch. He nodded. They started to grab mixed nuts and trail mix while the woman continued filling up her cart with juice.
The old man kept his eye on Naomi. “How many people you got with you?”
“My grandfather, myself, and my two friends: Dean and Conner. They went out front,” Naomi replied. The best lies always had some truth. As long as she could keep their attention away from the ladies’ bathroom, everything would be okay.
“When are they coming back?” the old man asked.
“Soon, I hope,” Naomi admitted. “Our hope is to hit the road pretty soon. Heard there was a town not far from here.”
“Poolesville,” the man replied.
His party continued their looting spree around them.
“Is it nice?” Naomi asked.
“Nice enough,” the old man replied.
“You from around here?” Naomi asked.
The old man glared.
Naomi realized that it was stupid question. Asking the thief where he was from was bound to create hostility. Naomi quickly recovered. “Yeah, we are traveling from Philly. The place has gone to hell.”
“I can imagine,” the old man replied. He glanced over to Fergus.
Fergus’s expression revealed nothing.
“There was a terrorist attack,” Naomi said.
The old man shook his head. “No, it was that little pecker in North Korea.”
“You think so?” Naomi asked.
The old man nodded knowingly. He watched his boys put bags of food into the quickly filling shopping cart. “Yep, we poked and prodded him enough that he finally shot back.”
“Maybe,” Naomi said. “I was thinking ISIS.”
“Obama took care of them,” the man said confidently.
“You can kill people all day long. Ideas and beliefs are a lot harder to eliminate,” Naomi said.
“How could some terrorist group cause all this?” The old man gestured to the powerless world around him.
“I’d wager they had help,” Naomi replied. She smiled. “Maybe from some pecker in North Korea.”
The old man cracked a smile. “I’d laugh if it wasn’t a possibility.”
The conversation fell into a comfortable silence. Everyone was a lot less tense after Naomi put aside her pride and let the people rob the rest stop.
Suddenly, the front door burst open.
Guns up, Conner and Dean rushed inside.
The tension Naomi had tried to hide returned as all the strangers froze, dropped their items, and reached for their weapons.
Conner kept his shotgun on the younger bearded man and the old man while Dean kept the pistol aimed at Mustache and the woman.
The room suddenly become very quiet. Fergus smiled proudly to himself.
Dean’s eyes were cold as ice.
Conner did well to hide his nervousness behind a hard face.
“Lay down your weapons,” he commanded a little louder than normal talking level.
The strangers didn’t move.
Hands completely steady, Dean kept his weapon trained on Mustache.
Conner repeated himself. “Unclip your weapons and put them down.”
Naomi’s throat dried out. She took a step forward. “I have a better idea.”
The stranger didn’t look away from Conner and Dean.
Naomi continued. “Why don’t you take your shopping cart and what you have and walk away.”
Dean kept his gun trained on the sweating man and said, “How about they give us their weapons and their cart?”
Naomi smiled nervously. What the hell, Dean? Seriously?
The strangers brought their hands closer to their weapons.
Naomi stepped out, wanting to defuse this bomb as soon as possible. “We all just want what’s best for our family. Agreed? Now these people traveled a long way to leave empty-handed. I don’t think there should be this much fuss over one shopping cart.”
“Listen to the woman,” the old man said. “This ain’t worth getting shot over.”
Conner aimed the shotgun at him. His Irish accent with thick with irony. “If that’s the case, you’ll have no problem laying down your weapons and leaving that cart behind.”
The old man shook his head. “There’s four us and only two of you.”
Dean glared at him. “How fast do you think you can draw?”
Mustache took the second Dean looked away to reach for his weapon.
Bam!
Mustache recoiled back before Naomi even knew what happ
ened. Screaming and cursing, the man slammed into the shelf. He clenched his wrist of his bleeding right hand. He was missing fingers.
Dean stood calmly, the smoking gun already aimed back at the old man. The blood left the White Beard’s face. Conner’s confident mask faltered, showing his fear behind his wide eyes.
Naomi swallowed, unable to keep her eyes off the screaming stranger’s mutilated hand.
Dean spoke calmly. “It will be your head next time.”
Before Conner or anyone could say anything, Naomi spoke up. “No one else should get hurt. Everyone knows we’re serious.” She looked at Dean. “But we’re not savages. We only want the guns, just because we don’t want to get shot. You keep the water. Fair enough?”
The two parties were silent.
Naomi wanted, unsure if her words meant anything at all to these men.
The two boys looked to the old man. His face turned from white to red with rage. He looked at Naomi with an expression that said, I’m trusting you. Don’t make me regret it. He unclipped his revolver, put it gently on the ground, and kicked it across the tile floor. The man with the mangled hand unbuckled his belt, pistol include. He put it aside and clenched his eyes in pain, cradling his bleeding hand against his chest.
Younger bearded man disarmed begrudgingly.
“Take the cart and go,” Naomi said with a calm she wasn’t expecting from herself. “Don’t forget to dress his wound. Infection is just as deadly as anything out there.”
Without another word, the woman pushed the cart outside and started running. The two men helped support one another. The old man waited until they’d passed by before giving Naomi a stern look and headed out the door.
Conner and Dean rushed to the back door. Naomi followed. They watched the four strangers run into the woods. When they’d vanished from view, Naomi glared at Dean. “What the hell was that? You just shot the man!”
Dean’s expression revealing nothing. It seemed like he only had two emotions, rage and nothing.
“He asked for it,” Dean said nonchalantly and walked away.
Naomi ran her hand up her scalp. She looked to Conner, waiting for his reaction. “We probably should’ve kept that cart. Water’s going to be hard to get.”
“My brother has plenty,” Naomi told him. “As I said, we’re not savages.”
Dean had gathered up the revolver and the other two pistols before Naomi had a chance to stake claim.
“May I have one?” she asked with a little more hostility than she had intended.
Dean set his jaw.
Conner sighed and rested his shotgun on his shoulder. “Let her have one, Dean.”
Without a word, Dean gave her one of the pistols. It felt a lot heavier than she expected. Conner went to Fergus, asking if he was alright.
Naomi checked the magazine; it was a 9mm. She familiarized herself with the safety, the sight, the trigger, and the hammer. She didn’t know the exact name or manufacturer of the weapon, but she knew how to use it. She glanced up, realizing that Dean was watching her the whole time.
Naomi clipped the weapon onto her own belt. “Calvin! Come out here!”
Calvin, Becca, and Cathleen exited the ladies’ bathroom. Calvin’s face turned ghost white as he looked at the blood and fingers on the floor. Gore didn’t faze Naomi as much. She put her hand on her husband’s cheek, turning his eyes to her own. “Let’s go find Trinity.”
Calvin’s mouth fell open, but then he nodded. They started out the front door and toward the woods across the street. They stayed parallel to Trinity’s trail. Conner and Dean followed after.
“Did you see her when you went out?” Naomi asked Conner.
“We did not,” Conner said. “The trail split in different directions. We didn’t want to go too far, so we came back. I’m glad we did.”
“Heard you talking,” Dean said. “Used that opportunity to get a jump on the looters.”
Naomi cupped her hands around her mouth. “Trinity, baby! Come out now! It’s safe!”
Calvin yelled her name as well.
A thousand fears raced through Naomi’s mind. She wondered what would happen if her daughter was taken or got lost out in the cold. She was a smart girl but was only thirteen. There was only so much a girl her age could do to survive on her own.
Soon, they were deep in the woods and reached the point where the trail split. Naomi’s footsteps were much small and easier to track but were followed by a larger step. Naomi recognized the print. It was from the mustached man’s shoe. She’d noticed the pattern in the snow as she watched them run out of the rest stop building.
Something rustled nearby.
Everyone turned their heads that way.
Naomi kept her hand on her newly acquired gun but did not draw it. Wind brushed her hair against her cheek. Her eyes were slightly squinted. Her breath misted out in front of her.
Suddenly, Trinity stepped out from behind a tree.
She had no visible injuries but was obviously alarmed by the squadron of people she faced. Naomi fought back the instinct to run to her and kept scanning the woods. “You alone?”
“I think so,” Trinity said.
Conner and Dean lowered their weapons. They kept an eye out. Naomi hugged her daughter, sliding her hand through the hair at the back of her head. “You scared me, Trinity.”
“I just went to take a walk, and that was when I saw those people following me. I hid in a tree. They gave up on following me and went around the building. I stayed hidden, wanting to make sure they were gone before I went back inside.”
“You can’t go wandering off alone. Never again. Understand?”
Trinity downcast her eyes. “Yes.”
Calvin hugged her. “We’re glad you’re okay.”
“So am I, Dad.”
With that crisis averted, they returned to the rest stop. None of them wanted to push Fergus all the way to town, and the rest of them didn’t want to make the 12-mile hike to the auto mechanic for the car parts. They split into groups: Naomi, Calvin, and Conner would go get the parts; Dean and the rest would stay back. Dean looked none too pleased about it. Naomi pulled him aside. Dean stared at her, expecting her to lecture him.
“I want to thank you,” Naomi said.
Dean looked shocked. The man did have more than two emotions.
“You got us weapons. You kept us safe. I’m asking you to do the same for my daughter. Will you?” Naomi asked with the right amount of desperation.
Dean reared his head back to the girls and the crippled old man. “I’ll see to it.”
“Thank you, Dean. Sincerely,” Naomi said with a small smile and headed back with her group. If she could successful make Dean an ally and give him the amount of trust he desired, then he could become a formidable alley. Especially if they didn’t get the parts and would have to walk to one hundred fifty miles through America’s frozen wasteland. Besides, every man wanted to a princess to save and women to defend. Naomi just gave him three.
Calvin and Conner said their goodbyes, grabbed some bottled water and trail mix, and started down the road.
Calvin seemed extra jumpy. He would’ve stayed back with Trinity, but Calvin knew the car parts they needed, and Naomi had to make sure they weren’t being shafted. She assumed that Calvin wanted her to stay back with Trinity, but honestly, she needed some room to breathe. She’d almost been in her third shootout in thirty-six hours.
The first mile actually felt pretty good. The exercise warmed Naomi up and the brisk cold felt refreshing. They passed by an uncountable number of cars. Conner timed the first mile. It took them thirty-two minutes. They needed to pick up the pace considerably if they wanted to get back before nightfall. They decided to jog the next two miles. Calvin kept an eye out for bicycles, but the racks on the backs of cars were empty. People were smart enough to take those when they were stranded.
It was about four miles in when Conner approached Naomi for conversation.
Calvin was about twenty
yards behind, wishing he’d exercised as much as Naomi.
“I wanted to clear the air about Dean,” Conner said.
“He’s a bit of loose cannon, your brother,” Naomi said.
“He’s always been tough,” Conner explained. “Being raised in the Devil’s Pocket, you learned grow up quickly and look after one another.”
“I believe in taking measures to protect your own,” Naomi said agreeably.
Conner looked surprised. “I didn’t see you as that morally flexible, Doctor.”
“We adapt or we die,” Naomi said. “I have no intention of dying anytime soon.”
“Cocky, too,” Conner said with a smile.
“Maybe,” Naomi shrugged off his remark. “I tell my patients to take the world by the horns. If they want something in life, they take it. Within reason, of course.”
“That’s a dangerous thing to say to a damaged mind,” Conner said.
“I usually word it a little different than that,” Naomi explained with a small grin. “But the core is the same: the world’s not fair, there’s only one love that unconditional, and if you want something, you have to be one to take the initiative. Live long, love a lot, and pick your battles.”
Conner chuckled. “Now you’re sounding like the Dr. Baxter I know.”
“You watched my seminars?” Naomi asked with appropriate amount of flattery.
“I read your book,” Conner replied. “I learned there’s not much difference between a motivational speaker and a bestselling therapist.”
“If you’re not being encouraged and uplifted, I’m not doing my job?” Naomi asked rhetorically.
The two of them kept forward. It was almost 11 a.m. Naomi hoped to be back before dark, but that didn’t seem like a possibility. Thankfully, she got her hand-cranked lantern and Conner had a flashlight that survived the EMP.
“Tell me more about Dean,” Naomi said. “He was military?”
Naomi knew he wasn’t. She knew soldiers. Dean may have been battle-hardened, but he didn’t have discipline.
Conner wiped the sweat from his brow. “Hard life taught him a certain set of skills. It's not my place to get into specifics. You want to know, ask him.”
Naomi didn’t press the issue. The beginning of the relationship was crucial to establish trust. Pry too much, she might push him away or make them guarded. Naomi wanted to establish transparency with everyone in the group as soon as possible. Gossip and backstabbing would be the death of them in this time of critical survival.
Aftermath [Book 2] Page 3
