by Mic Roland
“Curfew? National Guard? What the heck is going on around here?”
“Not sure. Governor Baylach is implementing some emergency procedures or something. I don’t want any part of it. I just want to get home.”
“Me too,” said the man. “Kevin Dixon’s the name. I’ve been trying to get home to Salem for two days.”
“We’re headed up through Salem too, but going further up.” Martin was not about to be specific.
“Great! I got kinda turned around tonight. I thought I was getting close to Lawrence when I saw that light, but this isn’t Lawrence. Where are we?”
“We’re on 495 between Lawrence and Haverhill.”
“So you know which way to go?”
“I’ve got a map, yes.”
“Could I come with you? I’m really lost without my GPS, said Kevin. “Safety in numbers too, and all that, you know?”
Martin was reluctant. Kevin was a total stranger. He could be a mugger himself, though there was sincere fear in is voice when he thought Martin was an attacker.
“I don’t blame you for being careful,” Kevin said. “Can’t be too careful, these days.”
Martin agreed with him there. If it were just himself, alone, he might travel with a stranger and stay wary, but what about Susan? Martin was feeling protective. Still, these were dangerous times. He and Susan had already seen some of the ugly side of humanity. Perhaps a larger group would help.
“Okay,” said Kevin. “I can tell you’re not keen on it, but I really don’t want to keep traveling alone. Tell ya what. What if I promise to give you a ride up to wherever you’re going? Huh? My wife’s car will be at my house. I’ll drive you home. What do you say?”
A ride the rest of the way was tempting. Their progress had been frustratingly slow. Yet, this could just become a variation on foxhole conversions: easily promised, seldom delivered. Martin had no contractual leverage.
“Aw cummon,” pleaded Kevin.
The prospect of saving many hours of walking was too hard to pass up. Martin knew he would have to be wary of this Kevin, keeping an eye on him at all times.
“Alright. We’re leaving now. You can travel with us, if you want” Martin whispered. “Follow me.”
Martin moved quietly down the embankment, slipping past bushes and saplings. Kevin followed noisily, breaking branches and cursing under his breath. Martin led him to the southbound bridge, where he hoped Susan was waiting.
He turned to Kevin. “Stay here while I go up and explain that you’ll be coming with us.” Kevin agreed.
Martin moved under the bridges and up the far embankment, a bit less silently than before. “Susan?” he whispered.
“I’m here,” she replied. “Who’s with you? They make a lot of noise.”
“It’s just one guy. Name is Kevin, and yes, he’s noisy. He said he’s traveling up to his home in Salem. Said he would give us a ride home once we get to his house.”
She did not reply for a long time. Martin guessed that she was thinking the same things he had.
“I don’t like it very much,” she said. “But a ride is tempting.”
“Agreed. One of us should keep an eye on him at all times, though. We have to be careful. I’ll go get him.”
The three of them squatted in the brush near the edge of the bridge railing. Dawn was coming slowly. The tree line was a distinct black edge against the dark gray sky. The humvee’s searchlight split the darkness again. This was what Martin was waiting for. The light swept the southbound bridge, then the northbound. It swung 180 degrees, to scan the other two bridges leading toward Haverhill.
“Now!” Martin burst out of the brush and over the guardrail. He ran hunched over, staying close to the concrete side rail, pulling the roller bag. Susan followed, with his backpack. Kevin lumbered along behind them awkwardly with his tree branch.
Martin had driven across those bridges many times in the past. It took only a few seconds. Running across them seemed to take forever. The bridge felt infinitely long. All three were out of breath and only making a fast-walk pace by the time they reached the other side.
They climbed over the guardrail and sat for a few minutes in the bushes.
They were panting and out breath. Martin shushed them. He wanted to listen for voices or a humvee starting up. It was hard to tell, between his own heavy breathing and Kevin’s wheezing. Nonetheless, the guardsmen did not appear to be moving.
Once they had caught their breath, they moved down the embankment. They all made a fair amount of noise navigating through the brush. They stepped out to the lot of a used car dealer. Martin stopped to listen again before taking to the road. All seemed very quiet. The dim gray light of dawn was growing.
“I really appreciate you guys letting me come with you,” said Kevin. “These past two days have been hell, I tell ya.”
In the growing light, Martin could see that Kevin was a well-fed man, in jeans and a sport coat. He was dirty and had been wet.
“You guys got any food?” Kevin asked. “I haven’t eaten in two days.”
“Sorry. We ate the last of our food this morning,” said Martin.
“Dang. Got some water? I’m really thirsty too.”
Martin was reluctant, but their water jugs were not hidden. “Here.” He handed Kevin one of their half-gallon jugs. Kevin began guzzling as if he intended to down the entire jug. Martin grabbed it away.
“Hey. Some water, yes. All of it, no.”
“Oh, sorry. I haven’t had anything to drink either.”
“So, where were you coming from, Kevin?” Martin asked, hoping to get Kevin thinking about something other than his privations and appetite.
“Beverly. My company’s headquartered in the Cummings Park there. I’m the president of Optilux Worldwide,” he said with a proud tone.
“Never heard of Optilux,” Martin said. “What’s that?”
“Oh, ho HO. We are the premier interagency infrastructure negotiation and re-placement specialists. World class specialists,” he added.
“What does all that mean?” Susan asked.
Kevin went on to explain, at some length. Despite all the trendy buzzwords, Optilux appeared, to Martin, to be a broker for other people’s excess inventory. They didn’t make anything, or even sell anything. They arranged for someone else to buy someone else’s excess goods. They were an after-market middleman. This was clearly a job that would not exist when the economy stalled for lack of power.
“I was in my corner office on Monday,” Kevin began. “When the lights went out. Phones were dead too. I kept working my accounts until I couldn’t get a cell line anymore. I sent Carol, my receptionist home, and Don, my sales guy.”
There’s only three people to Optilux Worldwide? Pretty small world.
“So I was trying to get home, but traffic was horrendous. I had to stop for gas for my Caddie, but the stations weren’t working. I ran out of gas right there in line. Can ya believe it? Nothing I could do, so I walked to the commuter rail station. Figured I’d go back into town and come out on the Haverhill line to Lawrence. My wife could come get me from there.”
“But the trains weren’t running?” Martin said.
“No!” Kevin sounded outraged. “Can you believe it? Of course, I don’t usually ride the trains. They’re more for the blue-collar types, but just when I need the stinking trains, they don’t work! Well, I knew Carol lived up in Middleton, so started walking up there. I pay her a pretty darn good wage for what she does. I was going to have her drive me home. She owed me that, for sure.”
Martin and Susan exchanged looks. They pitied Carol.
“But I didn’t even get that far. While I was walking along, minding my own business, these three punks in hooded sweatshirts come up beside me demanded my wallet. Well, I told ‘em no way and pushed one of them away. Blindsided me, I tell ya. Cheap shots. While I was down they were kicking me too.”
“I’m sorry, Kevin,” said Susan.
“Yeah, thanks. They g
ot my wallet. I had over two hundred bucks in there! Got my Rolex too. But the laugh’s on them,” Kevin snorted. “It wasn’t a real Rolex.” He had a good laugh, though Martin was not sure who the joke was on.
“Did they leave after they took your things?” Susan asked.
“I told those punks they better not mess with me again. Shoulda seen ‘em run off. Low-lifes. All cowards. But that wasn’t the worst of it. What really galled me is that the cops wouldn’t do a blasted thing about it! Not doing their job! When I got to 95, there was all kinds of cops around. I tried telling them that I got mugged and described the punks. The cops didn’t care! They weren’t gonna make a report or do anything. Can ya believe it? I mean, what do I pay these jerks’ salaries for anyhow?”
“That was yesterday,” Martin observed. “What did you do for shelter last night when it rained?”
Kevin flailed his arms in exasperation. “Aw, that was insult to injury, I tell ya. I tried pounding on peoples’ doors for them to let me in. No one would so much as answer their doors. I knew they were home. I could see candles inside. People are so rude sometimes.”
Martin thought Kevin was lucky to be alive. In Massachusetts, guns were zealously prohibited. It was less likely that one of those homeowners would have owned a gun, but if they had, they might have shot a big loud stranger pounding on their door in the night.
“So, it started raining harder,” Kevin continued. “I had to do something. I found some cardboard boxes behind this 7-11. They didn’t help too much. I still got wet. Didn’t sleep either. When the rain stopped, I headed out again. I thought I was coming up on Lawrence, but there was nothing but woods.”
“No, you came up between them,” Martin said.
“I coulda swore, but like I said, I usually use my GPS. I left that in my Caddie. Well anyway, I was coming up through them woods and saw a light. I figured it was help of some kind, so I kept going that way.”
“What about you, Martin. Where are you and the missus headed?”
“We’re going…a bit further north. Actually, Susan isn’t my wife. She’s just a friend who needs a place to stay.”
Kevin glanced at Martin’s wedding ring, then at Susan. He got a wide ‘knowing’ grin.
“Oh. I gotcha.” He winked. “Pretty sweet deal, eh? Not so bad traveling with your own…”
“KEVIN!” Martin snapped.
Kevin, evidently saw the anger in Martin’s face. The sophomoric grin dropped.
Martin wanted very badly to punch that smug locker-room-humor face. His fists were clenched and his face felt hot. Kevin was a much bigger man, but Martin did not care. Big men can still hurt and, it seemed, sometimes should.
Then Martin remembered the promised ride, so he tried to dial things back and keep it civil. It was not easy to dissipate a rage.
“The lady might take that the wrong way,” Martin said carefully, through clenched teeth.
“Oh, uh. Sorry.” Kevin glanced at Susan. “I didn’t mean anything.”
You did too, you big dolt, Martin thought. He imagined knocking Kevin over, sitting on his chest and pummeling his head.
“Apology accepted, Kevin,” said Susan graciously. She also knew when to change the subject.
“Where do you live in Salem? Is it a nice house?” she asked brightly.
“Uh. Yeah. Real nice. Only the best, ya know? Lake front property.” Kevin was more comfortable boasting.
Martin mouthed a ‘thank you’ to Susan behind Kevin’s back. She smiled. He hoped he had not ruined their ride.
Kevin rambled about his exclusive neighborhood and how he got such a good deal on one of the ‘primo’ lots because he ‘knew this guy.’ Martin was unable to pretend to be interested. He busied himself planning where he might tell Kevin to drop them off, that would be near enough to reduce walking, yet not reveal where he actually lived.
After a few more sparse suburban blocks, Martin got out his map and showed it to Kevin.
“Which way to your house? We’re right here. If we go up this way we’d pick up 97, we could go in towards Salem.”
“Nah.” Kevin turned his head to squint at the map. “That would bring us up on the wrong side of my lake. Long way around, and I’m sick and tired of walking. If we could get on this road here.” He pointed. “It would bring us up to the south entrance road.”
Martin studied the map. “There aren’t many streets going up that way. Looks like we’ll have to go a bit further, then follow this one up and over.”
In the gray morning light, the houses along narrow and winding streets looked normal enough. Martin wondered why they saw no one outside. He thought he caught a glimpse of someone peering out a window, but quickly closing the curtains, or a head disappearing behind a corner. Perhaps large strangers had been banging on their doors in the night too.
Once they had turned left onto the road Kevin indicated, the houses were fewer and farther between.
Martin noticed they had not seen any cars on the roads yet. Had people finally realized that gas was hard to come by? Perhaps they also realized there was no ‘work’ to drive to, and that stores were equally fruitless destinations. He was about to point out the lack of traffic when he spotted a car crest the low rise, perhaps a half mile ahead.
“Hey look,” he said. “That’s the first car I’ve seen today.”
As he spoke, two men stepped out of the line of trees ahead of them. They moved into the road, their backs to Martin’s group. Martin did not like that fact that he had not seen them earlier. He vowed to be more vigilant.
The two men waved their arms to flag down the approaching driver. Standing in the middle of the road made them impossible not to notice.
“I don’t have a good feeling about this,” Susan said quietly.
“Me either.” The three stopped and watched.
The driver stopped. The hooded man on the right spoke with the driver. Was he asking for a ride?
Suddenly, the man reached in the open window, apparently opening the door. He pulled the driver out. It was a thin man with gray hair. The other man pulled out the passenger: a woman with short gray hair.
Martin, Susan and Kevin stood stunned at the sudden carjacking in progress fifty yards ahead of them. The second man clubbed the woman. She fell into the brush beside the road. The first carjacker sat straddled across the old man, beating him in the head over and over with savage energy. The whole event was over in moments.
The second carjacker shouted something to his cohort and pointed at Martin, Susan and Kevin. The carjackers started walking towards them.
Martin’s mind quickly assessed the situation. There were two attackers, versus him and Kevin. Even-ish, but not great. They might have unseen weapons. He had his little knife. They were clearly brutal. To stay and fight them could go either way, but could be bad. Then he thought of Susan. She said she was not a fighter. If it did go badly, Susan would be left alone with them. That was unacceptable.
“Quick,” Martin said. “Back this way.” They needed to put distance between them and the threat. He turned, grabbed the roller bag and ran. The other two followed. Better to avoid a fight if the stakes are too high, he told his inner John Wayne. The carjackers consulted each other for a moment then gave chase.
Martin turned right up a subdivision road. It was a dead-end loop, but offered more cover than a lone road with grassy meadows on both sides. The first few houses he passed offered little concealment. Wide yards, no trees. A quick glance behind him showed that both carjackers were running up the street after them.
“This way,” Martin yelled back to Susan. He veered left, up a curving driveway.
“No!” shouted Kevin. “This way!” He kept running up the street.
Martin ran behind the first house, looking for anything to give a tactical advantage. The first house had a small raised deck with a single stair. It would be more defensible, but not if they had guns.
“Come on!” he called back to Susan. They ran across the backyard a
nd through a line of shrubs.
“Did they just kill those people?” she asked, out of breath.
“Don’t know, but it sure looked like it.”
A piercing scream froze Martin in his tracks. Martin and Susan looked at each other, as if to confirm that they actually heard what they did.
“Kevin?” Martin whispered. It sounded like the shriek Martin sometimes heard on summer nights when an owl caught a rabbit.
Unfreezing, Martin saw that the second house had a utility shed built under its deck. The doors were open. He ran towards it. They could not out run the two carjackers, even if they abandoned their loads. The carjackers were young and rested. Martin and Susan were not.
It was dark inside the shed. A lawnmower sat in the center of the dirt floor. Rakes, hoses and sprinklers lined the walls.
“Quick,” he whispered. “Up against the walls. Stay out of sight.”
He pressed himself up against the short wall beside one door. Susan did the same on the other side. They would be hidden to a quick glance into the shed. He tried to slow down his breathing. They needed to be very quiet.
He could hear the carjackers shouting to one another. “They went back here!”
“No. I saw ‘em run that way.”
The fact that they could not agree gave Martin some hope that their route had not been seen.
“Well I’m looking back here. You check out that house up there. We can’t let ‘em get away.”
Seconds seemed to take hours. Martin strained his hearing for some clue to their positions. He stopped breathing altogether when the doorway darkened. Martin glanced down. Wheel prints! The roller bag left fresh wheel prints in the dirt floor.
The carjacker jumped around the corner, his face within inches from Martin’s.
“Gotcha.”
* * *
Chapter 11: Escape into the void
Martin pulled at the carjacker’s jacket, thinking he was off balance leaning into the shed. His flash mental plan was that the man would fall down inside the shed and they could run out.
