by JT Sawyer
There was a tangle of abandoned vehicles around the buildings, but no signs of activity. The hotel sign was lying bent across the highway. Another sign indicated the Grand Canyon Caverns twelve miles east and the historic Waverly Ranch a mile to the south.
“Looks like the world has changed since we were last in it.” Travis ran a dusty hand over the stubble on his chin while thinking. “Let’s take a breather here for a while. Get down some water and chow. Pete and I will pay a visit to the hotel and see if there’s anything of use or if the phones still work. The rest of you stay here. No point in having all of us crammed in a tight space in case bullets start flying. This maze of boulders will provide plenty of hiding spots and high ground. Keeps your knives handy…just in case.” He handed the radio to Katy and the SAT phone to LB. “Give these a try again while we are gone. Just keep the sound turned down.”
Chapter 3
It was around 5:30 p.m. and the light in the desert was fading. Travis strung his headlamp around his neck and then scanned the hotel grounds one last time. He leaned towards Pete. “Just so you know, I’m not trying to steal your show here. I know this is your group still. My plan is to get us past this rough patch in the trip and make sure we get out of here safely. Then I plan on high-tailing it back to Denver, to my son. I only pray I can get there in time.”
“No worries, my friend. I don’t mind you taking the lead, that’s for damn sure.”
He and Pete made their way between abandoned cars and roadside boulders until they were within two hundred yards of the two-story hotel. All the windows on the lower level had been replaced with boards, but the windows on the second floor were intact. The attached restaurant sat on the west side. The last glow of fading sunlight was glimmering off the broken glass in the parking lot. Hmmm, almost all these cars have Nevada or California plates.
There were probably close to two hundred vehicles peppered throughout the parking lot and adjoining streets. Scattered between the vehicles were bullet-riddled corpses. They looked normal and didn’t show the blue mottling they had seen on the other victims. A tour bus was tipped on its side and had flattened a tree near the highway. Whatever happened here, this must have been the farthest that refugees from bordering states could get before they ran out of gas. This was a tiny town on the way to nowhere. God, what did Vegas or L.A. look like that drove these people out here?
Pete knew the layout of the hotel, having used it many times over the years with clients after river trips. The least obtrusive point of entry was in the rear by the kitchen. If the arrangement hadn’t change in his absence, there was a narrow window with a wood hatch that the cooks used for dumping scraps out back for the stray dogs.
Pete rested his hand on Travis’s shoulder. “Let’s sprint over to the back side and see if we can get in that way.” Pete had a serrated folding knife in hand as they sped across the lot, skulking behind some low shrubs that dotted the curb. As they passed the side of the hotel, they saw three motorcycles tipped over, with black-and-red zebra patterns on the fuel tanks. Alongside the bikes were the tattooed bodies of the dead owners. Shotgun wounds were present on the torsos of each one, but they also looked like the dead woman from earlier, their skin shrunk to their skeletons.
Travis motioned with his hand that he would go first and Pete would follow behind, acting as the rear guard. On the count of three fingers, Travis bolted in a low crouch for the window, with Pete following a few seconds later. A slow tug on the tarnished handle revealed that the window was locked, but it jerked open with some convincing from Travis, the weathered wood in the jamb giving way. The window was four feet off the ground and Pete knelt and gave Travis a boost up. He shimmied through the narrow frame and then helped Pete through. The kitchen door that led outside was barricaded with a tipped-over fridge.
They entered the kitchen, stepping cautiously over broken glass and shattered plates that littered the floor. There were only a few slivers of sunlight left, sliding in through cracks in the boarded-up windows, outlining the confines of the room. The cabinets were stripped bare. The only sound was from the sink faucet as a single drip landed rhythmically on a heap of blood-soaked rags and latex gloves, which gave the room a clinical odor.
With arms extended and pistol in hand, Travis sidled up to the swinging door that led into the main dining area. Listening first, he slowly peered through the round window. The tables in the dining room beyond were gone, and metal chairs were strewn about the tiled floor. A salad bar stand was in the corner and next to it a red-and-white popcorn machine.
Travis eased the swinging door outward. He tried to minimize the crunch of broken glass under his boots as he crept into the dining area and moved towards the hotel lobby to the right. An archway, bordered with a Southwestern motif, separated the two rooms. He clung to the corner while Pete remained by the door. To the left, about twenty feet away from the lobby desk, were winding stairs leading to the second floor. The skylights in the upstairs ceiling created a bleached effect on the green carpet below as dusk shone through. The first-floor hallway beyond the stairs was a jumble of chairs, couches, and busted TVs that extended to the exit door. The massive double entrance doors next to the staircase were secured with a haphazard array of 2x4s and old planks, which had been hastily nailed in place.
Travis motioned for Pete to come up. They strained for any movement upstairs while Travis glanced over at a snack bar under the right side of the arch. On the counter was an L-shaped plexiglass stand on its side, showing an ad for fruit smoothies and, next to it, the tattered remnant of a newspaper. He glanced at the headlines: “CDC Indicates Millions Dead. Reanimated Flood Cities Worldwide.”
As they walked into the lobby, they found bodies strewn about the stairs and landing on the second floor. Most were riddled with bullet holes, while others showed signs of blunt-force trauma.
Travis darted a glance at Pete and could see the look of uncertainty in his eyes. He hoped his old friend would remember he was clutching a sharp blade in the direction of his kidneys. He had seen guys before, about to undertake room-clearing scenarios, get twitchy when the adrenaline dump was pulsing through their hands. He glanced back towards Pete and motioned to him, through example, to take some deep breathes.
Travis slowed his breathing down as he felt his heart rate increasing. A familiar feeling was rising to the surface. It was something he thought had been washed away by the tranquility of the river trip. The most enjoyable part of the entire trip was sinking into his hammock after dinner each evening. No one to bark orders at, no teammates’ wounds to patch up, no more dark alleys to venture down in some war-ravaged part of the world, wondering if you’d be emerging with the brother by your side. How I wish I could return to the gentle breezes and river song of the canyon right now and paddle away from all this.
*****
Katy turned on the walkie-talkie to listen for any chatter. Nothing but static sounded out until the roaming function settled on channel eight. The shaky voice of a little girl was screaming. “Please, if anyone’s out there, help me. My grandpa is sick. Can anyone hear me? Please help.”
Katy responded, “Hello, where are you?”
“We are at the Waverly Ranch. Help me, please, please. He’s not doing well.”
“We’re coming. My name is Katy and I’m a nurse. I’ll be there soon. You hang on, alright, sweetie?”
“OK,” the girl said in between sobs.
LB moved forward. “The sign on the road indicated that the ranch is only a mile south of here. We can be there in a few minutes if we hustle.”
“We were told to stay put by Mr. Second Amendment, remember?” stated Jim. “Plus we don’t even know what kind of shape that girl and the old man are in. She could be one of those things trying to lure us over.”
“Drink a can of Toughen Up already, Jim,” said Evelyn. “You’re really going to turn a blind eye to a little girl?”
Jim curled his upper lip, sneering. “I didn’t sign up for the outback adventure
trip. I’m supposed to be on a flight out of here by now.”
“Flight back to where?” LB said. “I think you’re dehydrated, man. Have you noticed that the world has changed? This whole trip we’ve been puttin’ up with your whining…”
Katy gathered her pack, interrupting LB. “You can stay here and argue or come with me. I don’t care but make your mind up.” She took a fixed blade out of her pack. “First, let’s go get Pete and Travis. It’s a bad idea to split up any further than we have,” she said, walking out into the moonlight. Evelyn hobbled upright and followed, along with LB. Jim shuffled back and secreted himself further into the boulders while clutching his red daypack against his chest. “I’m not exposing myself in the open. I’m staying here until you all get back. Good luck,” Jim said as the trio walked away.
As LB, Katy, and Evelyn trotted to the hotel, their boots kicked up fine dirt on the ground, which glowed silver in the moonlight as they moved along.
“You OK, Ev?” Katy whispered back to the older woman, who was limping. Evelyn’s artificial knee had given her trouble during most of the river trip but she never complained. She gave a thumbs-up and motioned for them to keep moving fast. Katy paused alongside a tipped-over car, checking the rear entrance. Her high cheekbones were red from the heat of the hike. She had a sleek figure like a runner and pale skin, despite so much time in the sun the past few weeks.
“I heard what you said about staying together but it would be good to have some wheels,” said LB. “You two get Travis and Pete. I’m going to poke around in these vehicles and see if there are any keys.”
“Sounds good. We’ll meet back here in few minutes, I hope,” nodded Katy.
Chapter 4
Travis slid past the front desk in the lobby while pivoting towards the staircase. He swept the top of the landing first with his pistol and then repositioned on the area immediately to his right and directly over the stairs, while quickly ascending. Once on the landing, he saw the bodies of four men and a woman slumped dead against the walls with bullet wounds in their chests and arms. Next to one of them was a shotgun with spent shells strewn about.
He motioned for Pete to come up. “Looks like this was the last stand for these folks. Must have been a shootout with those dudes in the parking lot,” he said, pointing to the crudely cut slots in the plywood windows which indicated use as rifle ports. “Check the bodies for any weapons, then let’s get the hell out of here.”
Travis grabbed the 12-gauge Remington shotgun, three slugs, and an ax that was clutched in the hands of the dead woman, then they made their way down the steps towards the kitchen. “We better refill our bottles in the sink. Never know when we may hit another place with fresh water,” said Pete. They each chugged down a quart of cool water and topped off their bottles. Pete quickly rinsed out two large discarded syrup jugs that were on the floor and filled them.
With temporarily distended stomachs, they made their way towards the back window. Travis went through first while Pete handed him his gear and the water. They darted towards a dumpster, scanning the parking lot and surrounding desert just in time to see Katy and Evelyn sidling up around the back of the hotel. She filled him in on the radio transmission, then they slunk back the way they came, past the bushes, and stopped at an overturned bus, searching for LB.
Time and distance are our friends now, Travis thought. Move fast and keep in straight lines when possible. Gapping bursts, breathe for a minute, keep moving. His mind flashed back to the lectures he gave his students during evasion training. Only then, the number and direction of the enemy was known and air evac was on the way.
The sputter of a truck’s engine drew their attention to the middle of the parking lot, where LB was revving up a battered green pickup. Travis flashed his headlamp twice and LB swung over to their location. They hopped into the extended cab with Travis riding shotgun.
“Heard we’re going to a ranch for some fresh steak. You know the way?” Travis said, tucking the ax down below. LB nodded. Travis put his hand on LB’s shoulder. “Wait a second; did anyone see that?” he said, staring through the driver’s window past LB. “I thought there was movement beyond those trees on the far side of the hotel.”
“Let’s not wait to find out,” said LB.
“What if it’s someone who’s hurt?” Katy said. “Do you really want to leave them stranded here?”
While they spoke, several figures started moving out of the shadows in the distance. Their disheveled appearance and swaying walk resembled that of the ranger. “Get a move on it, pronto!” said Travis.
As they sped out of the parking lot towards Route 66, they saw Jim jump out from the boulders near the highway’s edge and run towards the truck.
“Should we save his sorry ass?” LB said.
“May as well; even a fool can still be of use,” replied Travis. They paused along the road and LB told Jim to get in the back. The man slung his pack into the rear bed and slithered over the side, lying below the rim while the truck peeled off on the blacktop. After a quarter mile, they made a right turn where the sign to Waverly Ranch was located.
The winding dirt road was unobstructed. The moon was in full view and colored the desert landscape an eerie blue-green. It was bright enough to read a book under, and you could see kangaroo rats foraging in the nearby sage flats.
As they crested the top of the road, they could see a single-story ranch house in the distance next to a tack barn. One of the ranch’s front windows had a faint light emanating from around a drawn shade. The kind of soft, warm glow cast by a kerosene lantern. Miles beyond, situated on a mountaintop, was the repeater tower next to a small structure.
With each curve in the road, the dust from the truck’s wheels turned the night air into a barnyard odor of ground-up manure and decaying hay, from years of running cattle. “I don’t see any horses, cows, or even a dog,” said Travis. The house wasn’t very big but had a wrap-around porch made of weathered, knotty pine. He could see the back of an old truck and a faded yellow tractor around the rear. A few feet away were an upright steel water tank on stilts, a large propane tank, and the tack barn beyond that.
Travis motioned to LB to let him out two hundred yards before the house, alongside a clump of shrubs. “You guys head up; Pete and I are going to swing around and provide some cover in case this isn’t what it appears to be,” he said, handing Pete the shotgun.
LB drove on, coming to an abrupt halt before the left side of the weatherbeaten house. Katy got out and walked up, pausing before the front steps of the porch. Some low-lying bushes skirted around the house. The white paint on the porch rails was faded and had flaked off in patches. To the right of the front door was an old rocking chair with a wicker seat that was frayed in the center. A bunch of rusty horse shoes were piled up on the left. The ivory lace curtains over the windows were thin enough that Katy could make out a dining-room table and a tall bookcase inside.
“Hello, are you here? We heard your call, honey; are you OK? Can you tell us what’s wrong?” Katy said in a shaky voice.
They all moved up the porch steps reluctantly. “Sweetie, can you tell me if you’re alright?”
The front door creaked open and the sooty face of a young girl with blonde hair emerged, backlit by the interior light.
Chapter 5
Travis and Pete had made their way along a bleached wood fence to the right of the house, darting around bales of hay and stacks of firewood before arriving at the back door of the house. He moved towards the left side of the house where a large elm tree cast a shadow, obscuring the porch from the moonlight. He paused, peering into a window. While glancing inside, he stopped and shot a glance back into the open desert, in the direction of the hotel, where he thought he heard movement far in the distance. Then, he saw a figure move by the window inside the house, while the rear door opened up and the outline of an older man in coveralls appeared. “No need for sneaking around, son, I heard ya comin’ some time ago. I may be on my last leg, but I s
till got my senses about me.”
The man had a silver beard and patches of hair on either side of his balding head. He was leaning on a cane with his right hand, while the other was wrapped with gauze that revealed traces of blood seeping through. “Come on in. I reckon me and my granddaughter are the last residents of our small town able to provide some morsel of hospitality.”
Travis lowered his pistol and stepped up on the porch. The older man had an ashen face and labored breathing. “Name’s Evan Roscoe. I’d shake your hand but that’s a custom that’s faded in recent weeks, so no disrespect.”
“Travis, and this is my buddy, Pete.”
The man nodded, then turned while they followed him inside. They could see Katy and the others coming in through the front door, led by the young girl.
“Pull up a seat on the couch or by the fireplace. We got some talking to do and not much time to do it,” the man said with a wheezy exhale.
Everyone came in and sat down except Travis, who stood with his back to the handmade stone fireplace, in view of both doorways. It was a cozy interior, with a small kitchen off the main living room, two side bedrooms, and a bathroom.
The young girl sat down next to the man. “This is my granddaughter, Becka. She’s twelve but has the good sense and experience of someone twice her age. I’m sure glad we found someone on the radio ’cause I wasn’t sure what I was going to do over the next few hours,” he said, wiping his shirt sleeve over a teary eye. “She lost her folks a week ago and her cousins, too.” He reached down, putting his hand on her head. “And I’m afraid my time is nearly upon me. In another reality, she would have been taken in by another ranching family in the area. We look after our own.”
The girl looked up at him with lips trembling, holding his hand while he continued, “In all my seasons in the sun, I never figured things would end like this. Now, I don’t know you folks any more than you know me, but my Becka is going to be better of going with you than stayin’ here. This is a lot to lay on strangers but I don’t have much time,” he said, glancing down at his bandaged forearm.
