People are just dying to get in there, he thought, smiling at his own grim humor. He had no doubt that the mortuary business was about to experience a boom.
“Hey, guy, got a second?”
Vincenzo looked up from his map to see a man with a beard, broad shoulders, and a beer gut well past the incubation stage walking toward him. The guy wore a hefty hiking pack on his back, which pulled his olive-colored Life is Good T-shirt tight across his chest. A slender woman followed, and she also wore a hiking pack. The man had a floppy boonie hat on his head and carried a tall walking stick. The woman had a kerchief wrapped around her skull. Vincenzo cursed himself for not keeping one eye out. As he folded his map and slipped it inside his knapsack, his fingers brushed the lukewarm shape of the Glock. Take it easy, hoss. They look pretty well equipped for a long walk. He rose to his feet. “What’s up, guys?” He thought the man looked familiar and wondered if he had seen him back at the church breakfast.
“We don’t mean any harm,” the man said, slowing and holding up his hands. “I can see you’re armed.”
Vincenzo glanced down. When he had crouched down, his shirt had ridden up, exposing the Beretta. “We’re cool,” he told the man. “What can I do for you guys?”
The woman was standing behind her companion and off to one side. Her thumbs were hooked in the shoulder straps of her pack, and sweat ran down her face in rivulets.
“We saw you at the breakfast,” the man said.
Vincenzo nodded. “Yeah, I think I saw you, too.”
“Listen, we overhead some of the conversation you were having with the church people. We know you’re headed to Los Angeles,” the man said.
“Okay. And?”
“Can we come closer? We don’t have any weapons.” The man lifted the big walking stick. “Well, except for this.”
Vincenzo considered it. “Sure. It’s still a free country, right?”
The man smiled and stepped off the road and onto the grass. He half-turned and beckoned the woman to follow. She seemed hesitant as she watched Vincenzo with nervous eyes. Vincenzo nodded to her then looked back at the man. He remained mindful of the walking stick. Even though the man’s body language didn’t indicate he was looking for trouble, Vincenzo figured it would be pretty dumb to fall into full-on kick-back mode.
The man let out a sigh as he stepped into the shade afforded by the big building to Vincenzo’s back. “It’s good to get out of the sun for a while.”
“It is. So what can I do for you folks?” Vincenzo asked. “Are you headed to LA as well?”
“No, no. Cincinnati. We were going to go hiking in the Catskills, and we’d stopped to visit friends in Englewood when the pulse hit. Fried my Subaru, so we’re on foot. Like you are, I guess.”
“Yeah, my Range Rover’s a very expensive and very large paperweight right now,” Vincenzo said.
“Of course, we wouldn’t have this trouble if someone had let me buy that diesel truck I wanted,” the man said, glancing back at the woman. She rolled her eyes, her lips compressed into a tight line.
Vincenzo had to smile at the age-old sign of marital discord. “So you guys walked down from Englewood? Have any trouble?”
The man shook his head. “No, not really. But it’s coming, which is why we wanted to talk to you. I figure you’re more or less heading in the same direction. Maybe we could travel together?”
Vincenzo studied the couple. “Well. I don’t really know you guys.”
The man smiled broadly beneath his beard. “Well, I can solve that! I’m Rob Ackerman, and this is my wife, Jody.” Rob switched the walking stick from his right hand to his left and leaned toward Vincenzo, hand extended.
Vincenzo reluctantly shook hands, mindful of the fact that his Beretta was set up for a right-handed draw. “Tony Vincenzo. Good to meet you guys.”
“Yeah, it is. Anyway, we figure a group might have an easier time on the road. Not such an easy target,” Rob said.
“Makes sense. My route doesn’t take me very close to Cincinnati, though. I’ll pass south of Columbus, but that’s about as close as I get.”
“Oh, that’s cool,” Rob said. “We’ll peel off when we get closer to home plate. Though maybe we’ll find some transportation along the way, so you can keep on going. Like I said, diesels will still work, and so will a lot of older vehicles. Even airplanes, like older Cessnas and Pipers.”
Vincenzo perked up. “You a pilot?”
Rob nodded. “Yes. Well, I should qualify that. I was a pilot, but I haven’t had the opportunity to fly in over five years.” He paused for a few beats. “For the same reason I don’t have a gently used F-250 with a diesel under the hood.”
“Oh, for the love of God,” Jody said, sounding exasperated. “Why don’t you just blame everything on me?”
Rob laughed. “That’s in process, babe. I’ve been waiting for this opportunity for a long, long time.”
Vincenzo chuckled. “So, about airplanes. You might not know this, but Teterboro has a pretty big airport. It’s maybe two or three miles south of us.”
“I know it,” Rob said, bobbing his head. “It’s a big general aviation airport. Lots of jets down there, but I was thinking of”—he reached into a pocket on his backpack and pulled out a worn road atlas—“the Essex County airport, right here.” He pointed out the location.
Vincenzo examined the map then nodded. “My planned route takes me right past it. But why there instead of Teterboro?”
Rob gestured at the southern horizon. “Because I’m thinking it’s on fire.”
Vincenzo turned. Sure enough, thick clouds of black, oily smoke roiled in the distance. “Oh, yeah. I hadn’t thought that’s what was burning up. Makes sense, I guess, probably lots of fuel over there.”
“Well, there was,” Rob said. “Anyway, I’m not certain I can get us a plane wherever we go. But it’s a thought.”
“Not a bad one.”
“So, what do you think, Tony?” Rob asked. “Should we team up?”
Vincenzo looked from Rob to Jody and back again. They seemed like nice enough people, but trusting other folks probably wasn’t that great of an idea. And just because they said they didn’t have weapons didn’t mean anything. Even if they didn’t have any guns on them, they very likely had knives, which meant he might wake up one night with one of them conducting a tonsillectomy on him from the outside in.
“So, no weapons, huh?” he asked. “Not even a little folding pocketknife?”
“We have knives,” Rob said. “But the last thing I want to do is get into a knife fight with someone. I don’t have those kinds of skills.”
“All right. Anything else I should know about?”
Rob hesitated, and Jody stared at his profile. Something was wrong.
Vincenzo took a step to one side, his right hand drifting toward the Beretta. “What’s up, guys?” he asked.
“Jody’s pregnant,” Rob blurted. “We really need to get back to Ohio. In a couple of months, she’s going to start to show, and that could lead to some unwanted attention.”
That wasn’t what Vincenzo had been expecting. He raised an eyebrow. “What, you think roving OB/GYNs are going to descend on her?”
If Rob thought the comment was even remotely humorous, it didn’t show. “A pregnant lady looks like a target,” he said, his voice cold and flat. “I don’t want her out on the road for any longer than absolutely necessary, and it’s another reason I was hoping to be able to join up with you. We’ll watch your back, so long as you help me watch hers.”
Vincenzo sensed the desperation in the man’s words, even if it was absent from his voice. And there was a cast of fear in Jody’s eyes that she tried hard to suppress.
Vincenzo sighed and pulled his shirt down over his pistol. He glanced at his watch. It was just past twelve thirty. “All right. I’ll help you guys out. I’ve already had two people try to kill me for my stuff, so you’ll have to pardon me when I tell you to lead. I’ll be right behind you.”
>
Jody shook her head at Rob. “I don’t like the idea of a guy with a gun behind us.”
Rob regarded Vincenzo speculatively. “Me either,” he said, “but that’s probably the price we’ll have to pay.”
“I’m not looking to start anything,” Vincenzo said, “but that’s my only offer. Feel free to walk on if you don’t like it.”
Rob nodded. “I think we can deal with that. Just so you know we’re friends.”
Vincenzo shook his head. “No, we’re not. We’re allies.”
14
With Rob and Jody in the lead, Vincenzo was a bit more comfortable. At least he could keep an eye out for anyone who might be looking to move on him from behind without having to worry about not having a pair of eyes facing forward. He felt that the Ackermans weren’t out to cause any mischief, especially if what Rob had said was true. Pushing a pregnant woman into danger would take a lot of guts, and he didn’t get that kind of heartless vibe from the big man. And there was a legitimate pall of fear around Jody that made Vincenzo think she had something more to protect than just herself and her husband. He was willing to give them the benefit of the doubt, but he did keep his eyes on them, just in case. And he kept a good fifteen feet between them, as well. Not that one of them couldn’t turn and close that distance before he could draw a weapon, but the gap should give them pause if trouble was on their minds. He didn’t figure he was dealing with a pair of Navy SEALs. They were just a couple of hikers who needed to get home, a story Vincenzo was all too familiar with.
They made it to Essex Street. The neighborhood had been built with an emphasis on business and retail, but there were plenty of houses and apartment buildings thrown into the mix. Several shops and bodegas had signs in Spanish. And the stores, especially the drugstores and small food markets, seemed to be well guarded. Uniformed police were there in some small number, but Vincenzo also spotted the outline of many a pistol beneath loose-fitting T-shirts of civilians. The men—almost all were men, though Vincenzo did see one middle-aged Asian woman standing watch inside her Vietnamese grocery store—seemed neutral enough, but their eyes were sharp. They were alert for any trouble, and Vincenzo didn’t blame them when they gave the motley trio schlepping backpacks a second glance.
As they walked past a vacant McDonald’s, Vincenzo regarded the restaurant with a heavy heart. He’d always had a fondness for the Golden Arches, and knowing they might never shine again was a sudden, heavy disappointment. No more Big Macs for you! he thought, channeling the Soup Nazi from Seinfeld.
“Hey, look,” Rob said, pointing off to the left at a delicatessen that seemed to be doing a little bit of business. An A-frame sign out front read OPEN CASH ONLY in big red letters on a stark white background. “Maybe we should check it out.”
“I don’t know,” Jody said, regarding the broad-shouldered Latin men standing outside the store.
From the way they carried themselves, the men were probably hired muscle. They scanned the people entering the deli with strong gazes, as if trying to determine friend or foe. They practically stared holes through an approaching black man, even though there was nothing outwardly wrong with the guy. In fact, other than some graying stubble on his cheeks, he seemed pretty well off.
The black guy stopped in front of the biggest guard. “What, a black man’s money isn’t green enough for you?”
The big guard sighed. “Sure. Sure,” he said, waving the man to the door. “Just gotta be careful, you know.”
“Don’t worry. Al Sharpton isn’t taking my calls, so no one’s going to be picketing the place,” the black man said with sudden humor.
The big guard snorted, and his white teeth flashed. The smile disappeared as a group of teens, a mix of blacks and Latinos, rolled up on bicycles, laughing and guffawing. The big guard nodded at his buddies, and they drifted toward the front door as the black man stepped inside. The guards stood in front of it, faces immobile.
“Qué es lo que está pa’ sopa?” asked one of the youths, a squat, flat-faced boy with a Yankees baseball cap reversed on his head. “You ain’t gonna let us in, mano?”
“Not all at once,” the big guard said.
“Oh, and why’s that?” a tall, reedy black kid asked.
The big guard ignored him and kept his eyes rooted on the first kid. “Because I know what you about, Julio.” He nodded toward the street. “Them bikes, they even yours?”
“Course!” Julio said, puffing out his chest a bit.
The other men grinned and shook their heads. The big guard noticed Rob, Jody, and Vincenzo rolling up, and he held a hand up to Julio. “Stay here,” he said. “I’ll deal with you in a second.”
“You guys are open?” Rob asked, as he mounted the sidewalk. He glanced at the teens with a neutral expression, and they looked back with insolent smirks, despite the fact that Rob was easily as big as the tall Latino presiding over the guard detail.
When they saw Jody, one of the Latin kids nudged another with a big smile. “Que buena estas,” he said, not even bothering to lower his voice.
The guard silenced the teens with a brutal glare then turned back to Rob. “We are,” he said, studying first Rob then Vincenzo. He favored Jody with a small smile. “But like the sign says, cash only. No power, no credit, no ATM.”
“That’s fine,” Rob said.
“Hey, hermano, what about us?” Julio asked. “We got cash.”
“You wait your turn,” the guard said.
“But we was here first! You going to let white people in ahead of your own people?”
“We’ll have to talk ’bout you even getting in at all,” the guard said. He jerked a thumb toward Rob. “Them first then I’ll think of letting in some of you… with an escort.” He twisted his wrist until his thumb was pointing at one of the men behind him. “And José is inside already, just in case someone decides to try to do something with the register.”
“Damn!” Julio threw his hands in the air. “I just want to get a Coke, man!”
“Then you’ll have one.” The guard turned back to Vincenzo’s group. “Quick rules, ’cause I see you’re not from around here. Prices are set, no bartering. Get in and get out as quick as you can, no loitering. Try to steal something, you deal with us, and we’re not the police.”
“No one’s going to steal anything,” Vincenzo said.
“Yo, little one has balls,” the tall black kid said, snickering.
A few people came out of the deli, carrying plastic bags full of goods. The teens watched them with hooded eyes.
The guard waved Vincenzo toward the door. “Go ahead.”
The interior of the deli was hot, but as soon as they stepped inside, Vincenzo noticed a lot of activity near the refrigeration section. It took him a moment to figure out why: the refrigerators and freezers were still working.
“Babe, you see that?” Jody asked Rob, pointing down the aisle to the row of glass doors along the rear wall.
“We still have refrigeration, folks,” said the burly Hispanic man behind the cash register. His bald head shined in the muted light coming in through the windows. So did the nickel-plated 1911 .45 caliber pistol in his shoulder harness.
“How’d you manage that?” Vincenzo asked.
“Generator,” the man said. “Installed it after Super Storm Sandy. Finally getting to run it now.”
Once the man mentioned it, Vincenzo became aware of the hum of a generator somewhere behind the building. “You have ice?”
“For about the next sixty seconds. It’s a hot item, if you’ll pardon the pun.”
Vincenzo grabbed a hand basket from the stack beside the door and made a beeline for the refrigerators with Rob and Jody in tow. Several people were already there, helping themselves to whatever they needed. Vincenzo spotted a bag of ice and grabbed it. There were only four or five left. He also tossed in several energy drinks and some bottles of water.
“You going to be able to use all that ice, Tony?” Rob asked.
“No.
You want some? I’ll split the booty with you.”
Rob smiled. “Awesome! I’ve got a cooler in my pack.”
Vincenzo walked through the deli, picking up bread, peanut butter, toilet paper, another package of pre-moistened towelettes, and various other items. By the time he made it to the front counter, his hand basket was full. He wondered how he’d manage all the extra weight, but he figured a lot of it wouldn’t last for long, especially not the liquids.
“Get what you needed?” the man behind the counter asked.
“Heck, yeah. Unless you guys have some MREs?”
The man shook his head with a grave smile. “That stuff, I never stocked. In retrospect, a bad decision.” He waved toward the deli counter, where a display case was still half-stocked with meats and cheeses. “You want anything from the deli? It’s not gonna last for much longer and no chance of restock.”
Vincenzo nodded. “Yeah. Pastrami on rye. Lots of spicy mustard with kraut.”
“Lourdes!” the man shouted.
A young woman drifted out from the back, her long dark hair pulled back in a ponytail. She carried a flashlight in one hand and looked annoyed. “I’m right here, Dad.”
“One pastrami on rye with the works.” The man turned back to Vincenzo. “Anything else?”
“I’m good. Actually, add a Pepsi to the tab.”
The man pressed some keys on his cash register, which must’ve been drawing power from the generator as well. “Ninety-three twenty-seven.”
Vincenzo frowned. “Really?”
“It’s the new economy, pal,” the man said as he began placing the purchases in plastic bags. “Demand is high. Just be glad you’re not Edgar there”— He pointed toward the black man who had entered before Vincenzo—“I’ll own one of his kids before he gets out of here.” The guy was headed for the register with two hand baskets full of food and a case of cold Corona under one arm.
Vincenzo pulled out his wallet and counted out five twenties. He took his change, pocketed it, and picked up the plastic bags. As he headed back to the coolers for his soda, he saw the man behind the register watching him in the dome mirrors. Vincenzo grabbed a cold bottle of Pepsi then strolled over to the deli to wait for his order. Rob and Jody brought their purchases to the register. Their tab was a little over a hundred and fifty dollars.
Charges Page 14
