by Kuhn, Steve
The kid was filthy. I put him in his early twenties, shaggy brown hair, and about as tall as me. He had a scraggly, patchwork beard and a small duffle bag across his shoulder along with the aforementioned rifle. He held a bloody survival knife in his right hand and a bernie’s head in the other.
Chavez ordered him forcefully, “Start talkin’, and it better be damned good.”
“I b-b-believe you owe me a f-f-favor,” the kid said, stuttering terribly.
Chavez answered him with, “A favor? I already did you a favor, dickweed. I didn’t shoot your ass… yet.”
The kid ignored Chavez and turned his attention to Don, asking, “Is he always s-s-uch an a-a-asshole?”
I repressed the urge to smirk and tell him the truth, opting instead to say, “We’re just a little tired of running into psychos, ya know… like the kind of people who roam around alone carrying human heads and shit.” I gestured at the head.
The kid looked down at the head in his hand, gripping it by the hair, before rolling it towards us. It came to a stop on its ear, staring blankly with one eye. The other eye was nothing more than a gaping hole. He told us, “Th-th-that’s your s-s-sniper problem. I s-s-sorted him out.”
Chavez disgustedly asked as we dropped one by one onto the road from the trailer, “That’s the sniper, huh? And you ‘sorted him out’?”
Smirking, the kid answered with, “Did I s-stutter, m-m-motherfucker?”
Nobody likes a smartass and Chavez was no exception. He got a little shitty, but managed to ask the kid, “You shot him through the Goddamn eye? You must be a pretty good shot with that rifle, kid.”
The kid shook his head, “N-n-name’s not kid… it’s B-B-Boyd, and w-wasn’t my rifle. I sh-sh-shot the prick about seven times in the b-back with this…”
He produced one of the finest handguns I’d ever laid eyes on from a shoulder holster, which caused everyone to rear back and nervously ready themselves for a shootout. It was a badass, chrome piece with a silencer mounted on the front, pearl grip, and some sort of specialized sights on the top.
Don noted, “That’s a fine piece you got there, Boyd, but do you mind telling me why you killed this man? And what’s all this business about a favor? Why are you out here alone?”
Boyd told us all, “Th-The hunters have b-been a thorn in everyone’s s-s-side for months n-now. They t-t-track anyone who comes this w-way. My g-g-group is all dead. G-G-God only knows what they d-do with the ones they k-kill, but this is the last of them. I b-been chasing them down one b-by one. This guy was good, th-though. Kept h-hidden and on the move f-f-for days now, b-but he gave his pposition away when he took that last shot at y-you guys. I made him p-p-pay. He turned on me after I took his h-h-head off, so I stabbed him through th-th-the eye.”
Chavez said, “Good thing it wasn’t a long story, kid. I thought I was gonna fall asleep by the time you finished the damn thing.”
Boyd laughed, taking the joke well, and told Chavez, “Yeah, g-g-good thing I’ve only h-h-heard that joke about a th-th-thousand times, bitch. Luckily, you’re m-m-mother doesn’t m-m-mind it so much.”
Don put his hand out to hold Chavez back as he made a move to get in Boyd’s face and told him, “Take it easy, Chavez. Kid’s just giving you a taste of your own medicine.”
Chavez scoffed and backed off, just slightly.
Boyd got back to business. “So y-yeah, my g-group’s all gone, and I n-n-need a ride outta here. Guy tore up my t-truck last night. Since I pretty much s-s-saved your asses, I’ve decided to r-r-run with you guys for a while.”
I told Boyd, that probably wasn’t going to happen. Not surprisingly, he didn’t blink an eye. He just told us, “I figure you’re headed to V-Vegas, right? Everybody’s g-going there.”
Don shook his head and told Boyd, “Cali, actually. What’s going on in Vegas?”
Boyd made a face like he was disgusted that we didn’t already know before telling us that Vegas was actually prospering through all of this. It was painful to listen to him stammer his way through it all, but basically he just wanted a ride to Vegas and then he’d be on his way.
Don told the kid to wait where he was and huddled the rest of us up near D-Prime to discuss it. Kylee instantly shot down the idea and argued that we’d had nothing but trouble from other people. Cutty more or less agreed. Don and Chalmers were more empathetic and made it a point to illustrate how nice it was to be outside without worrying about a rifle round tearing its way through our bodies. They felt we owed the kid a ride at least.
Boyd cleared his throat from his position some twelve feet from our huddle and suggested, “I th-think you g-guys should make a move s-soon. We’re wastin’ d-d-daylight.”
Chavez told him to shut his mouth.
Boyd raised his pistol in our direction, causing everyone to draw and spread out slightly.
Plink!
He pulled the trigger and fired a single round. With everyone flinching at the somewhat silenced discharge, I spun around just in time to see a single bernie drop in the distance some thirty yards behind us, ahead of D-Prime.
Boyd stood there with his gun smoking and said flatly, “We’re gonna d-draw a c-c-crowd soon.”
Kylee spat on the ground and snapped, “Fuck it. At least he ain’t useless. Let’s go.”
The map shows us a couple hundred miles from Vegas as of right now. If we keep making good time we’ll be there tomorrow or the next day, but I’m not counting on it. We always run into some kind of problem. Let’s hope the problem isn’t Boyd.
Entry 134
I woke up in the back of D-Prime to a sight that no one really wants to see. No, it wasn’t Don and Kylee gettin’ it on in a sleeping bag. It wasn’t maggot-ridden corpses or bernies munching on some poor fool who ran out of ammo at a bad time. It was way worse than all of that, actually. It was Cutty with no boots or socks on his funky-ass feet, sitting inches away from my face, cutting his Goddamn toenails with a machete. My throat snapped shut when his sour, goat-cheesy foot stank hit my nose, so I groggily moved my ass to the back of the trailer to grab a water in an effort not to hurl.
I watched Kylee as she lay with Don for a while, remembering some of our more challenging moments. I thought about the many nights I stayed awake with her, a hand on her stomach, feeling the rise and fall of her breathing to ensure she didn’t turn like the others did from Morofsky’s shitty vaccine. I thought about her saving Rebecca in the community’s trash dump, only to be bitten again. I chuckled under my breath when I thought about the time she almost lost her shit and tried to take on an entire herd by herself… that is, before I punched her in her face. Even the memory of that moment brought back the searing pain of the knee to the nuts she gave me in return. We stood by each other every time. We’d faced every challenge together. I cursed at her under my breath as I watched her sleep this time, though—Don, too. I cursed them both for the way I was feeling as I watched the two of them sleep together.
Then I noticed Kylee change. Her facial expressions contorted as she slept, and she whimpered slightly. Cutty looked up from his toe-clipping session immediately at the sound to silently assess the situation and make certain all was well. He’d done the same for Lilly as she slept, too. In fact, he’d done it on no less than seven occasions just since I’d been awake and drinking my water. Finding everything to his satisfaction, he went back to what he was doing. Not me, though. I could tell she was scared, but Don wasn’t budging; he was sound asleep. He should’ve been more aware of her discomfort. He should’ve been awake and wrapping her up in his arms, putting her back to sleep without fear. That’s what I would have done. Shit, man, I had done it… countless times.
Her eyes shot wide open, and she inhaled sharply as she wrenched herself from the nightmare. After gathering her thoughts for a short moment, she eased herself out of the sleeping bag without disturbing Don and got to her feet. She stalked over to Cutty and stood with her hand on her hip, waiting for him to acknowledge her.
He
told her quietly, “Go on.”
Kylee bent over and picked up Cutty’s second machete. “Thanks,” she said sincerely.
Reaching up behind her head, she grasped her pony tail with one hand and began sawing into it at the base with the other, using the machete. In a matter of seconds the majority of her hair hit the floor of the trailer, and what was left streamed around her face sloppily. She continued to chop at it, becoming more frantic as she went along, slicing chunks off and letting them flutter to the floor.
She held them back as long as she could, but it didn’t take long for her to break. She started to cry, but never wavered from her task. Cutty and I both rushed to her side to offer some comfort, some help. She dropped the machete to the floor with a loud clang, which caused the others to stir from their rest.
Cutty covered for her, saying, “My fault, y’all, my fault. Jus’ dropped a damn blade. Y’all go back ta sleep now.”
With a grumble and a yawn, Don rolled over and disappeared into the sleeping bag once more. Lilly did the same in her corner. Chalmers and Chavez were in the cab keeping an eye on Boyd, so I doubted they heard it at all. We turned our attention back to Kylee.
Cutty put an arm around her and whispered, “Eeeeeasy, girl. Eeeeeasy,” as we escorted her to where I had been standing in the rear.
She shuddered and sobbed, but made a solid effort to do so quietly. I asked her what was wrong, and she told me through her sniffles, “It had me. It had me by my hair. If it wasn’t for Lilly…”
That was all she managed to get out before blubbering incoherently again. I got it, though. The day Hook died, when that bernie grabbed a hold of her, she got spooked—no shame in that. But this was next level shit.
I offered to finish up her hair for her and nodded to Cutty that I had it covered. He asked, “You sho’? You don’t need no help, nigga?”
I told him once more that I was good then sat with Kylee on the floor as he moved back towards Lilly and Don. I asked her what she needed done, and she told me, “I want it gone. Take it all off.”
I picked through our tool box to find a couple of items more suited to the task, then got to work. She calmed down and kept quiet as I snipped off the remainder of her hair then began shaving her head with a razorblade and the rest of my water. She told me, “I don’t love him, Dext. I don’t think I ever did, to be honest.”
I didn’t say anything.
“I mean, we hardly even saw each other the entire time we were together, and now, knowing that my father more or less staged the entire thing… I just don’t know. I feel duped. He’s a great guy… and he’s brave… and smart… but…”
I finished up her hair and toweled her off without a word. I figured she just needed to vent. Turning to face me, she stared blankly as if awaiting my response. I mustered up the only thing I could think of. “He loves you. I can tell. Things are just fucked up right now. You two will be all right.”
She reached up and rubbed her freshly shaved head, saying, “Feels weird.”
She looked hilarious. I couldn’t help but start laughing at the sight of her. She started chuckling along with me, and before I knew it we were nearly in stitches over the whole thing. The moment passed, and we were once again staring silently at one another.
I feel bad for her. I know she told Don about the baby and everything we had been through, but words can’t describe shit like that. Words can’t describe the bonds built in times like this. We’ve lost so many friends. To anyone reading my words, they’re just names, but they were so much more to us: Gary, Kate, Hope, Junior, Bizzy, Tom, Wyatt, Trey, Fool, Rebecca, JC, Hook. Shit… Alyse doesn’t know about Hook. Shit!
It was as if she could read my mind. I placed my hands on her cheeks and pulled her forward, pressing our foreheads together. With closed eyes, we sat there for a long moment, reflecting on what had become of our lives and the tangled web we’d woven over time.
She kissed me.
In the silence of our filthy trailer, she kissed me and meant it. And when it was over, she hugged me and whispered in my ear, “Thank you—for everything.”
I said nothing.
I glanced at Cutty over her shoulder, and he was looking right at me, shaking his head. I knew what he was thinking, and he was right. We just fucked up.
There wasn’t time to think about it any further, though, as the hatch on the roof flew open, flooding the trailer with the early light of the morning.
Boyd’s head popped down through the hole, and he said, “R-r-rise and sh-shine!”
Kylee and I quickly flew apart, and Boyd finally got a look at her new appearance. “J-Jesus bumbling Ch-Ch-Christ… What the hell h-happened to you?”
Kylee told him to kindly mind his own fucking business, like she does, but Lilly exclaimed, “Holy cow! You look funny!”
Don winked groggily up from his spot and commented, “Guess they won’t be grabbing your hair again, huh, baby?”
Kylee, puzzled, asked him, “How did you know that’s what I cut it for?”
My stomach dropped when he replied, “I’m a very light sleeper… Ain’t that right, Dext?”
Fuck.
Boyd interrupted the awkwardness, saying, “We’ll be in V-Vegas before ya kn-know it. Let’s r-roll.” He disappeared from the hatch, and shortly after, the engine sparked to life.
Lilly walked over to me and Kylee as the truck began to move and said, “Bernies can’t grab you anymore, huh?”
Kylee nodded then grabbed Lilly in a big hug. She told her, “I never said thanks, Lilly. That was a helluva shot you made.”
Lilly brushed it off and said, “Psht! I got your back, Jack.” She grinned proudly and told me, “I want mine like Kylee’s, Dext. Let’s do it.”
What a weird morning.
Entry 135
Just when you think you’ve seen it all… Just when you think shit’s about as crazy as it can be, you come across something or someone that blows it all away. Today was one of those days.
We’re just a few miles outside of Vegas now, and the excitement is palpable. If what Boyd says is true, then Vegas is the perfect spot to get sorted for the final leg of our journey. A well-adjusted, secure, and thriving town will likely allow us to sort out whatever goods and ammo we may need as we push into California and ultimately Fort Bragg. Once we’re there, though, we have no idea how we’ll be received. If the colonel hasn’t put two and two together yet, we may be able to simply enter and secure Chalmers’ family immediately, maybe even convince the forces there that the colonel is a shitbag and Thigpen is the man to follow in the coming months. If Bragg is still under the colonel’s control when we arrive, then shit’s gonna get sketchy in a hurry. We’ll cross that bridge when the time comes.
The desert brought with it a number of challenges we hadn’t faced before. First and foremost, it was hot as balls out there. It was also wide open, which you would think would be great for visibility. It wasn’t—honestly. The glaring sun and the distortion on the horizon from the heat complicated matters, even with a rifle scope or binoculars. It was also dusty, and every time a rare breeze pushed through, we found ourselves caked in sand and trying not to scratch the lenses on our optics.
Then there were the bernies out there. They were different, sort of. They didn’t look like the fleshy, bloody ones from back east. Instead, almost all of them were dried up and looked like unwrapped mummies. Many of the one’s we saw wandering in small packs were skin and bones, like they were starving, and they acted like it, too. They were much more aggressive. In fact, that aggression was the focus of today’s little drama.
It began with taking a small break to stretch our legs and to allow Lilly to play for a while. She looked surprisingly cute, as usual, even with her freshly shaved head. In fact, she even told us that her new do was helping with the heat. We were all just milling around and making small talk when Boyd pointed off in the distance. The boy was always on watch. I liked that about him, but it was almost odd. He didn’t ask for brea
ks or anything. He just stared into the rifle scope constantly.
Anyway, he called out, “C-c-company.”
Lilly frowned at the prospect of her playtime being cut short, but she perked right up when Kylee nodded at her to grab her pistol. Lilly loved any opportunity to stand guard with her gun. Kylee hopped up into the trailer and picked up her own rifle. She hadn’t taken a shot with it in some time due to her eye, and I could tell she was itching to. Boyd steadied his aim at the incoming group and fired a single shot. I couldn’t really tell how many were out there with the glare, but I was able to tell that however many there were, it was now less one. The spray glistened in the air as Boyd connected with his target.
Kylee told him, “Nice shot, kid.”
Boyd grinned confidently and replied, “Thanks! N-Now, your t-t-turn.”
Kylee frowned and pointed to her eye. “Can’t. Used to be able to shoot the nuts off a mosquito at five hundred yards, but I ain’t worth a shit these days.”
Boyd peeked through his scope once more, but refrained from shooting. He told us, “You g-guys wanna p-p-play a game?”
Lilly clapped merrily and answered for us all, “Yes!”
Boyd told us to make some noise to bring them in a little closer, but added, “Don’t shoot them yet.”
Once they were within fifty to a hundred yards, he told Cutty to fire up D-Prime and be ready to drive. Then he urged the rest of us into the trailer, leaving the doors wide open. We complied and, in minutes, he had us all lying on our bellies with our weapons pointed out the back of the truck towards the fifteen or twenty bernies. He shouted to Cutty, “Just drive slowly and keep them at this distance!”
Cutty eased off the breaks, and we crept forward, leading the pack. Boyd told Kylee, “Let’s f-fix you.” Then, with a grin, he gestured for her to take aim.
She frustratingly placed her bad eye to the scope of her rifle and grumbled angrily, “I… I can’t. It’s blurry as hell.”
Boyd smiled patiently and said, “S-Switch shoulders.”
