“There is one thing we found when clearing out the rooms that we need to share. It’s probably nothing, but you all should know.” A bunch of adjusted chairs from the group. “There is, uh, one of the rooms had a… Well there isn’t really way to make this sound good, but there was a substance. Actually it might be best to just wait until after dinner.”
“They deserve to know. Tell them,” Ben said. The group agreed and urged him to continue. Ben enjoyed the others support, despite not knowing what they were getting into.
Asher sighed, “It was a thick, dark liquid. Burnt. Really. Really burnt. Charred would be the best way to put it. There was a pool of the tar hidden under blankets. We do not know what it is, but the sunlight seemed to make it heat up and boil. Until you come up with a good way to dispose of the fluid, Ben and I advise you to stay out of room 314.”
-
A pool of tar?
Jenna couldn’t breathe. This couldn’t be happening. She needed to sit down. She was sitting down. She was floating elsewhere. Anywhere but here. Back home with Robert and his family. Knick games. Lamb and veal. Shopping sprees. Cuddles and his warmth. He loved her. They were going to get married. She knew it. He knew it. He was going to do it at the Jazz game. Because, above all things, Robert had no sense of timing or direction on how to be romantic. His failures were adorable though, and she would have said yes with every ounce of her heart. That’s where she wanted to be. Back home, in his arms.
Maybe if you wouldn’t have left him there to rot.
No. She was just afraid. He was sleeping. She kicked his leg and heard him cough.
Are you sure?
She thinks she heard him cough, but she knows he was there. She kicked his foot, after all. He was sleeping. Resting from the exhaustion after such a long and terrible night.
And now he’s melted into a black puddle. Just like in your dream.
She would not cry about this, she couldn’t. No one could know about him. If someone knew about this, what they would think? Or say? Or do? Would anyone trust her ever again? Would anyone hold it over her head and use it against her? These were good people, but good people could be mean and hateful when they wanted to be. If they found out she left her boyfriend, the man who was going to ask her to marry him someday, alone in a room to melt away, would they send her away?
Maybe.
No one needs to know what room she stayed in or who she stayed there with. She would hold these emotions inside and pretend nothing was wrong. It was better this way. Safer. She would hide her emotions just like she had been hiding this bite on her leg.
If you hide it for long enough, maybe it will go away.
This didn’t mean she would never cry. This pain would stick to her for the rest of her life. She was going to cry herself to sleep and never forgive herself for letting this happen to Robert. No sense in pretending to be strong when you’re alone.
Robert was dead for you. He died for you. Don’t block this out. Don’t run from him again.
No running. There would be no running.
Only hiding.
-
Mickey was up next to speak to the group, but he would wait until after dinner. He was excited to go over the walkie talkies and the generators, even though it looked like they didn’t need the generators here. There was so much to talk about with John’s Pawns. Hopefully Greg would send him on another search to a different pawnshop in the coming days. This allowed his creative juices to flow and almost helped him forget about the wolves on the roof.
Shelly carted in a silver platter of the finest cuisine Grand American could currently provide: rolled tacos filled with fake meat and old cheese. If the night people didn’t kill them, the cancer from these things probably would.
The best part of the meal was the water. It was cool, fresh, and just what the doctor ordered. Mickey downed six or seven glasses. The de facto waitress, Shelly, was happy to top him off each time. She was very sweet and kind in how she took care of everyone. She was like the group’s mom. The whole dinner and discussion went well because Shelly was so good at being a caretaker. It was easy to love her right away.
Jenna sat to his left, and boy was she easy on the eyes. There would be no time for romance, not now, but if and when the opportunity came, he knew the direction to go. Everything about her was gorgeous. She seemed really cool too, but there wasn’t time to go down that road. Plus, there was plenty of competition, that super model superhero Asher and maybe even Greg, if she favored the intellectual type. Well, intellectual with a broken face. Mickey shook his head hoping to shake out these thoughts. They had no benefit. Whatever happened would happen. What was meant to be, was meant to be.
Lynn leaned in and asked, “Do you think we’ll get dessert?” He said it in a half chuckle, like it was an inside joke. “I heard the Grand American had the best Snicker Bars and M&Ms in all of Utah.” He winked one of his cloudy eyes at Mickey.
“I think you’re right. Or maybe Milky Ways,” Mickey said, trying to join in on the fun. His forced laughter was no match for the old man.
Mickey’s awkwardness in the moment was eased as the old man replied, “And a fresh glass of chocolate milk to wash it down. I heard they have their own cows sleeping down in the basement.”
Up until now, Mickey didn’t even notice Lynn was sitting to his right, but now he was excited to get to know this silly, old fart and make a new friend. It would be nice to have an older guy around as a mentor, especially one who didn’t hate Mickey’s guts.
“Name’s Lynn, chap. You’re Mickey, right?” He put his hand out in the wrong direction, making Mickey wonder if he was joking. Instead, he brought the old man’s hand into his and shook it tight.
“I am, sir. It’s nice to meet you.”
“Well, it would be nicer if we were at a sports bar watching a Niners game or taking a couple of shots, wouldn’t you say?” Lynn said and gruffed.
This caught Mickey’s attention and he asked, “You’re a Niner fan? Me too.”
“I was a 49er fan before Joe Montana was soiling his diapers,” Lynn replied.
“Well, then it is very nice to meet you. It’s nice to be surrounded by at least one other classy gentleman here. All the rest of these people act like Bronco fans.”
“Ha! Or worse, I bet that Harry fella is a Cowboys fan.”
Mickey looked over and saw Harry sulking with his rolled taco. He wasn’t the same since coming back from the gun store. Which, even though he hated Mickey, it was sad to see the guy so sad. He couldn’t find any bullets, but no one held it against him. Guns and ammo would come. It was too big of a city to not bear arms, but it would happen in due time. What was meant to be, was meant to be.
“How long till this things over? I am ready for bed,” Lynn said.
Mickey hadn’t thought of sleep since his head rose from the concrete bed this morning. The thrill and possibility of sleeping in a bed, a nice bed even, was enough to nearly make him giddy. He looked around and counted the people as quickly as possible. “We might even get a good night’s rest,” he said. “Me. Jenna. Shelly. Lynn. Greg. Harry. Edie. And the brothers. But I don't think they sleep.” He recounted aloud.
“Seven people. Four beds. Uh oh…Someone is going to end up on the floor,” Lynn said. “Won’t be me. These old bones can’t handle anything less than silk sheets and goose-down. Did you understand why we have only a few options? I can hear the honeymoon suite calling my name.”
Mickey scoffed, Greg made rules and didn’t take the time to explain them. He expected everyone to be a genius. “He just wants to keep us together where we are safe, no big deal.”
Greg was listening and chimed in, “Mickey, I think it’s time you announced your findings. Do you mind?”
“Sure, uh, yes...Sir,” Mickey said. Greg was the least ‘sir-like’ of the bunch. He was the youngest guy by a couple of years, and he didn’t command the attention of the group like a natural leader. Still, he was the closest thing they had to one. He wa
s the only guy willing to step up to the plate and organize, so it was a good idea for Mickey to pay his respects and support. Greg would need it.
The group quieted when he stood. They stopped eating and stared with interest. “Yeah, so I had the chance to go to the pawn shop. It was called John’s Pawns. I found some pretty sweet stuff. You guys have already seen some of it in the shopping carts, but there are also walkie talkies, which we can use for each room and generators, for anytime we end up at another location. Although, why leave? Right?” Greg gave a validating smile. “Yeah. I didn’t think so. So there are some really comfortable blankets. There are garden tools. Which, yeah, some of them can be used as weapons, but we also might want to build a garden.”
Greg cleared his throat and signaled for Mickey to keep going down the list of items.
“Right. Sorry. So, we have knives for everyone. Even you two guys if you want them. We also have… uh…” He was searching his mind for anything else. “Yeah, yeah, also air mattresses. Three of them. So any of you who want to sleep can sleep on air mattresses. And rope too. That place had a ton of really strong rope. And zip ties. Some climbing equipment. I have some ideas about that too…”
“Okay. That’s great, Mick. This brings us to next steps.” Greg interrupted Mickey. He had more to say, but apparently that didn’t matter. “If I can have your attention for a few more minutes, I promise to give you ample free time before night falls.” It was awkward to sit back down after that, but Mickey tried to be respectful, even if Greg acted like a jerk, kind of.
-
Harry listened as Greg laid out plans for his crazy idea while the rest of the group sat there with a stupid look on their faces. Greg was smart enough to come up with such a great plan, but he wouldn’t be skilled enough to pull it off without someone who was handy with tools. Harry wouldn’t stand up to volunteer, but he would be joining. He could run back to his apartment and find the rest of his tools for the process.
Was anyone else even capable of swinging a hammer? A real hammer, not that thing Ben carried around. There was no one else here able to change their own motor oil, let alone know how to fix a generator or cut wood for the trap. Harry had all the skills needed to catch one of those freaks and loved Greg’s idea on how to do it. One of the women think it was inhumane, but they didn’t understand warfare the way the men did.
Greg told the group, “My hope is to trap one alive and examine it, and then kill it from a safe distance. In order to do this and keep risk as low as possible, I would like to set up the trap back at the pharmacy. There is ample protection for us and distance from you.
Asher and Ben, I ask you to stick around through the night, just while we get prepared and learn how to fight back. We cannot do this on our own, and while I am confident you are going to end this, I want to be prepared for the worst. Would one of you mind helping me in this project while the other hangs back at the hotel to guard the group?”
Ben was the one in charge. He said, “I’ll guard. Asher will go.” His brother didn’t look too thrilled about the decision, but he kept his mouth shut. The memory of Asher assaulting Harry was still fresh; he didn’t like the idea of partnering up at the pharmacy, but Greg’s position was understandable. If they were half as strong as what Ben’s been claiming, they were needed.
“Mickey, I would like you to join me as well. You found the equipment. It’s only right you help the assembly and bring whatever else we need,” Greg continued. Harry counted three inflatables, so another person would be joining them. Apparently Asher and Ben did not sleep. Harry searched for Greg’s eyes for validation. “Because it is such a plan with so many things that can go wrong, we will not have anyone else join us. I want the rest of you to have ample protection. ”
Left out. Not wanted. Worthless. Harry was set up to fail, just like every other time in his stupid life and now Greg was taking it out on him. This was supposed to be their plan, their group, and their success, but Greg gave up on him even though they worked together so well. How fair was that? Who did this punk think he was? He was better than Harry, every one of these people were better than Harry. Harry couldn’t get a simple job right, as usual.
Harry’s failure to find ammunition haunted him again, and Greg was the one to hold it over his head. Greg, the piney little needle who thought he was Mr. Science Genius Guy. Harry had been his friend. He had trusted him, but Greg chose the mouse over him. All because Harry couldn’t find bullets in a building without bullets. How could he be so unrealistic? Harry didn’t even get the chance to defend his case. This group was together because he wanted to find the women. Not because Mickey found a couple of walkie talkies. Not because Greg was so stinking smart. Now Greg stood there, smug as a bug on a rug, making plans without the consideration of how those plans might be poorly thought out.
There were two options on the table: let him keep running his mouth or shut his broken face up.
“Bad idea, boy. Who made you in charge?” Harry asked.
The look of shock on his skinny head was priceless. He backpedaled away like a stupid punk.
Greg replied, “No one. However, I see no reason to alter those plans.”
“Maybe other people would like to say something about your plans. Did you think of that?”
“I’m open to suggestions. Anyone?” Greg held out his arms, welcoming the rest of the group to chime in.
Crickets. These people didn’t care. They just wanted to be saved from the freaks and keep eating their cardboard quesadillas. None of them, especially not the brothers or Mickey, would speak, they were too stupid to see the plan was destined for failure. You can’t send three people who can’t even change a tire to do a man’s job. The trap would suck. It would break, and then they would die.
“Well if no one else has the courage to say anything. I will. I think your plan is poorly thought out. Do you know how to turn on the generator? What if it doesn’t work? Do you know how to splice wire? How about use a hammer? Mickey probably doesn’t even know the difference between a Phillips head and a slot screw driver. And you want to go out amongst the wolves to trap them? That’s about the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”
“Harry, I understand you are upset,” Greg said.
“Upset? Upset? I’m not upset. I’m confused why you would make a decision, any decision, without me,” Harry said. Harry wanted to slug him right then and there, but one of the brothers might come for another rib.
Greg looked confused by this revelation, “I didn’t really see the need to consult you. It was my idea, my plan, and I wanted to have the best people for the job. You have had a long day. You can use the rest.”
“Are you using the gun shop against me?” Harry replied. His voice was too loud, even for the large dining room.
“This is separate from the ammunition letdown, Harry. I’m sorry you’re upset. I would be happy to have your company tomorrow, but it’s best for you to take the night off.”
His fists tightened. He was ready to slug this kid in the mouth. “How about this, you follow your own plan, and I’ll follow mine. You come up with the ideas that are going to get you killed because you draft cowards while I’ll do my own thing and save these people’s lives. How about that?”
“Be my guest, Harry. Do whatever you want to, but please, relax and let it go.”
-
“We need gas,” Mona said. Salt Lake City: 391 miles. Welcome to Laramie, Wyoming. The city sign was a boulder with an arrowhead etched into it. Tink never thought of Wyoming as a place with cities or towns. It sounded silly now, but Wyoming was just a big sandy ghost town to him. He always pictured the last remains of the Wild West being in Wyoming, not that he really ever pictured Wyoming much at all. Other than watching their basketball team in the NCAA tournament or some crappy Bowl game. They were the Cowboys, after all. Really though, he thought the same thing about Montana, and Idaho, and… well the Dakotas too. In school, Tink asked his teacher why there were two Dakotas. She didn’t know the
answer, no one did, at least no one from Chicago.
He took the next exit and found a half-decent gas station to fill up the tank. Mona offered to pump the gas while he went to the restroom. There was one thing Tink learned on this road trip; the majority of gas station bathrooms were really disgusting. Why anyone would ever work at a rundown filling station in the middle of nowhere was crazy, but at least, if you worked there, please clean those nasty bathrooms.
This gas station was like a mansion compared to the other gas stations they passed. This might be the most expensive, high-class building in the whole state. Even the doors were automatic and worked like they were freshly installed. Tink was a surprised there weren’t those swinging saloon doors you see in the Wild West movies. There would be at least one person inside wearing a cowboy hat.
But there wasn’t. The girl behind the desk was actually a cute blonde with a tattoo behind her ear. She smiled at him with a flirty little twinkle behind her eyes. He was probably the first black guy she ever saw. “Rest…room?” he asked. The words felt awkward coming out. He was not one to be shy around the ladies, no no, but this girl was like an alien. She looked at him like he brought her flowers. She nodded her head and pointed in the direction of the rest…rooms. Now what?
“Thank you,” he said and smiled. Tink wondered if his lack of sleep was making him delirious. He went into the rest…room and wondered if he was hallucinating, and the cute blonde was a sloppy goon. He was awake for about forty hours, and fifteen of them were spent driving on one straight highway. Could his autopilot still be on, and he was now just seeing things? Maybe this was heaven, and the blonde was an angel.
He finished his bathroom duties and let the cold water rest on his face as he dried his hands. He splashed himself over and over. Hopefully this would help him wake up. His body had started falling apart. His grip wasn’t the same against the handles, his vision was sketchy, and his back was cramping so hard it made his stomach upset. The thought of energy drinks made his head ache too. They were the only thing working, so he would go back in the store and buy two more. Almost there.
Dark Genesis (Shadow and Shine Book 1) Page 18
