“I’ll go over and look through the selection with you. Come on,” he said, and held out his hand.
Char pushed back her chair and stood up. She eyed the hand suspiciously, but did not take it. She was more than capable of getting out of a chair on her own.
“When you get back,” Grace said, “you and I are going to have to spend a little time talking.”
“About what?” Char said.
“Birds and bees, honey. You were probably too young before all of this to understand what you missed just now,” Grace said. She smiled and batted her eyes.
Sam laughed.
“Am I missing something?”
“When you get back. That’s when we’ll talk. Now go play something with a beat. I am not going to lie, the idea of dancing has got some appeal,” Grace said. She snapped her fingers and moved her shoulders some. “It has been a long, long time.”
“With those moves,” Sam said, “maybe it’s better that way.”
He groaned and rubbed his shoulder when Grace punched him in the arm.
Char made eyes with Tony, and shook her head as if indicating Sam and Grace had lost it. She followed Benjamin to the jukebox, and stared through the bubbled glass at the list of songs and artists. “My dad used to take my brother and me to this diner on Park Avenue. The place looked like a chrome trailer in the back of a parking lot. The counter was lined with stools that spun, and booths lined the front windows. Everything about the place just screamed 1960’s. The food was so-so, you know? It was good, but nothing fancy, tuna melts and meatloaf, that kind of thing. My brother always got the mac and cheese and French fries.”
“What did you get?”
“I always got the same as my dad, The Western Burger. It was a half-pound burger with lettuce, tomato, pickles, and a giant onion ring, with a little mayo on the bottom bun and a ton of homemade barbeque sauce on top. It was a mess to eat.”
“Sounds delicious.”
“It was. We went through a ton of napkins, but the best part, or at least what I remember most, was the jukebox. Dad always had money for us to each pick like four or five songs. Anything we wanted. I don’t know why, but that was exciting, and we never left, even if we’d finished eating, until all the songs we’d selected were played.” Char tried to smile as she looked up to see if Benjamin was about to laugh at her.
“Pretty great memories.”
“You don’t think it’s silly?”
“What part would I think was silly? It all sounds amazing.”
Char turned her attention back to the jukebox. As much as she wanted to hear music, she couldn’t concentrate on reading. The words on each artist tab blurred.
“Hey! Mayor’s kid,” someone said.
Char looked up.
Benjamin turned away. “Mr. Broadhurst. How are you, sir?”
Mayor’s son?
Broadhurst?
Char lowered her head, slipped away from Benjamin and the jukebox, and made her way back to the table.
“I don’t hear any music?” Grace said.
“It broken?” Sam said.
“Tony. We need to get out of here,” Char said.
“Why?”
Benjamin walked up next to Charlene. “Hey, everyone, I want to introduce you to one of Arcadia’s suppliers, Frank Broadhurst.”
Chapter 16
Char felt her breath catch in her lungs. A whirlwind of thoughts spun wildly around inside her mind. Would Broadhurst recognize any of them? It was dark inside the bar. If he did, would he make a scene? If Broadhurst didn’t recognize them, how would Grace and Sam react? There were far too many variables.
She caught Tony’s eyes. He was staring at Benjamin. She was certain the thoughts that flashed through her head were passing through the minds of her friends, as well.
“I’m Frank, just Frank. Nice to meet you,” he said, nodding a hello to everyone.
“Nice to meet you,” Tony said, as if he hoped to keep the introductions short.
“This is Tony,” Benjamin said.
Broadhurst held out his hand. Tony shook it. It resembled a reluctant action, forced. Apprehensive.
“And this is Sam,” Benjamin said.
Broadhurst made a move to reach across the table to shake Sam’s hand. His eyes picked up Grace. He stopped, stood up straight, and dropped his hands to a holstered weapon.
Grace looked like she might scream.
Why did he have a gun?
Broadhurst pointed at Sam. “These are the people who stole the town’s supplies!”
The gun was out and pointed at Sam’s head.
Tony jumped up and slammed his arm across Broadhurst’s. The gun discharged once, twice. Broadhurst aimed and fired off a third round.
Char bent low, wrapped her arms around Broadhurst’s waist, and drove him sideways, dropping him hard onto the floor.
Chairs skidded across wood as people moved out of the way.
Broadhurst wasn’t going to let it go. He rolled Char off, and delivered a blow with his elbow into her ribs. She grunted and tried to pull away.
Sam dove onto Broadhurst.
Char saw things moving too fast to be real. She heard cries, screams, and the echoes of cries and screams as Grace helped her up.
A glass mug smashed over Grace’s skull. The woman’s legs wobbled and she crumpled to the floor. Blood and shards of glass mixed seeping into the wood.
Spinning around, Char caught a fist across her jaw. Benjamin grabbed for the man who struck her. This man wore a gun around his waist, too.
Someone yelled for someone else to get the sheriff.
A woman got past Benjamin and the man he struggled to restrain, and kicked Sam in the side of the head. Sam fell off Broadhurst.
Face bloodied, Broadhurst didn’t relent. He pummeled Sam. His fists crashed into Sam’s face. The flesh was turning to pulp.
Char needed to help Sam. She couldn’t find Tony.
She knelt next to Grace, who was unconscious, but breathing.
Sam was limp under Broadhurst. He didn’t struggle. Broadhurst never stopped. The punches smacked like a baseball bat repeatedly into Sam’s face while the woman kicked Sam wherever she could, growling with each slam of her heel into his groin, and thighs.
They were going to kill him.
Benjamin had the one man in a half nelson, and the man continued to struggle and resist. Char grabbed the gun from the man’s belt and checked the clip before she fired a shot into the air.
Patrons of the bar had mostly cleared out, only those in the back half who couldn’t safely get around the brawl to an exit stayed huddled close in the back corner.
Tables tipped as the man knocked Benjamin backwards.
“This is over!” Char said.
The woman who had been kicking Sam turned around. She withdrew throwing knives from a harness worn slung over her shoulders. Char didn’t hesitate. She fired the gun. Bullets tore into her chest. Blood soaked through the shirt as she stumbled to the side, lost her balance and dropped onto a table. The table barely moved. She slid forward and off the table hitting the floor face first. She didn’t move again.
This caught Broadhurst’s attention. He skidded around Sam’s lifeless body, snagged an arm under Sam’s head and pulled him up onto his lap. “Drop the gun, girl. I’ll snap his fuckin’ neck.”
Sam looked dead already.
If blood didn’t bubble from his nostrils, Char would have thought he was dead.
Char raised the weapon.
“Char, don’t,” Benjamin said. “Frank, let him go.”
The guy he’d been holding dropped an elbow into Benjamin’s belly. It was enough of a distraction that he could wiggle free of Ben’s hold. He tackled Char. The gun flew from her free from her grip.
Char saw one of the knives the woman dropped.
The man punched her, his first slammed into her temple. She saw black stars clearly, while everything else in front of her fell out of focus. Her ears rang.
She locked her fingers around the knife and stabbed the man in the neck.
His blood sprayed. It was warm, sticky, and covered her face.
Broadhurst still held Sam by the head.
“Let him go, Frank,” Benjamin said. His voice quivered more with each of the four words. He stood with his legs spread, bent forward, and one arm out. It was awkward, but he was able to pull the man off Char. “You all right? Let me handle this.”
“He’s mine,” she said.
“Char, let me handle this. I’m a deputy. Please, just let me take care of this.”
She rolled onto her stomach, pushed up onto her knees, and then lunged forward, over Sam. She dove onto Broadhurst and Broadhurst screamed.
“Char!” Benjamin said.
She didn’t stop, couldn’t stop. She stabbed Broadhurst in the chest. She pulled the knife out and plunged it in again. Broadhurst was dead. His eyes were open wide. She stabbed the throwing knife into his heart one more time and then twisted the blade. Once she felt the edge scrape across bone she pulled the knife out and wiped the blood off on his blood soaked shirt.
Someone grabbed her from behind.
She spun around, slashing out with the blade.
Benjamin winced, and backed away. “Charlene!”
She saw Tony. He was on the floor, under the table where they had been sitting. She crawled toward him. The wood floors seemed to drink the blood that spilled from his body.
“Tony?”
He didn’t answer, didn’t move.
She knelt next to him.
His eyes were closed, his mouth open. The hole in his forehead had been accidental, but fatally placed. She looked back at Broadhurst. He’d done this. She wanted to stab him again. The man had died too fast, too easily.
“Olek. I’ll get her,” Char heard Benjamin saying.
“Ma’am, drop the knife.”
She stared at Tony. This wasn’t right. It shouldn’t have happened. They’d fought side by side taking on hordes of infected together. It didn’t end this way. It couldn’t. Her friends had been cheated.
“The knife, Char, put it down,” Benjamin said.
She couldn’t go through this again, being alone. The loss was too much. Her heart ached. She lowered herself onto Tony, hugging him. She cried.
# # #
Sheriff Huber locked the barred cell and stood there with the ring of keys in his hand.
Char sat on a thin mattress. She wanted to wash the blood off. It was dry and crusting on her skin. “I want to know how Grace is,” she said. She didn’t look up, or at the officer. Instead she stared down at the gunmetal gray floor.
“Right now, I think it will be best if you worry about yourself.”
Char didn’t respond. She pushed back on the cot, pressing her back to the cinderblock. She drew in her knees and wrapped her arms around her legs.
“I’ll be back in a little while. You and I are going to have a talk. I want your side of the story,” the sheriff said. “I’m not sure what you’ll be able to tell me to make this any better. You do have the right to an attorney. Deputy Olek told you that when he arrested you, correct?”
Char could not believe that Tony was dead. She also wanted to know how Sam was. This place had doctors. She wanted to assume they were being cared for.
“Charlene, did Deputy Olek read you your rights when he arrested you?”
“Is Sam okay?”
“Your friends are being taken care of. I need to know if you understand what I’m saying to you.”
It was her idea to come to Arcadia. It was her fault they’d stopped running. The smart thing would have been to keep pushing on, putting more distance between them and Broadhurst. She wanted her weapons back. She wanted to collect her friends and leave this horrible town.
Maybe they wouldn’t want to go with her. She couldn’t blame them if they decided just to cut her loose.
“I’ll be back, ma’am. We’ll talk more then, okay?”
Broadhurst deserved a much slower death.
“I just want a moment with her,” a woman said. “Please, sheriff.”
“Talk through the bars,” Sheriff Huber said. “I’ll give you five minutes. Not a second more. Do me a favor. See if she wants a lawyer. I can’t get her to answer me.”
There was a moment of silence. Char hoped they had both gone.
“Char?” The woman had stayed. It was Rebecca Bowman. “What happened tonight?”
What happened tonight?
Char lowered her forehead to her knees. She tried to hold back tears. The crying started, regardless. The sobbing made her shoulders shake. She didn’t deserve to cry. She didn’t deserve to feel this way. Self-pity was reserved for innocent people who were wronged. “This was my fault,” she said. “Tony’s dead and it’s my fault.”
“Tell me what happened?” Rebecca said. “Please. I want to help you. You’re going to need help now. Let the sheriff get you an attorney.”
“You don’t get it. They started this. They kidnapped my friends. They had Sam and Grace bagged, tied and loaded in the back of a rig. Tony and I, we didn’t steal from Broadhurst. We just got our friends back. We did what needed doing.”
“You didn’t steal the supplies?”
“We stole the supplies. After. After we got back our friends back.”
“Charlene, if this wasn’t your fault—”
Char punched fisted hands into the mattress. “This was my fault. All of it!”
“You can’t say things like that, Char. Please. You don’t understan—”
“Go. I don’t want to talk. I don’t want to talk to you. Leave!” Char got off the bed and walked into the furthest corner, she faced the cinderblock and tried to pull herself into the shadows. She just wanted to disappear.
Chapter 17
Sheriff Huber and Benjamin Forti sat across the desk from the mayor.
“Let’s run through this again,” Vincent said. He leaned back in his chair, his fingertips pressed so tightly together they were white. When he’d learned of the events taking place at the Bent Elbow he had been home, getting ready for bed. He’d put back on the clothing he’d just taken off. The wrinkles and tie loosely around his neck annoyed him. Most of the time he enjoyed the position as mayor of Arcadia. In the last three years they’d had some crime, there would always be crime, regardless of laws, regardless of the punishment. That baffled him.
“When I got there—”
Vincent held up a hand. “Start with you, Ben.”
“I don’t know, dad,” Ben said. “I mean, it was going well. Then Broadhurst and his crew walked into the bar and I brought them over. Figured I’d introduce the prospects to the suppliers. Let them see how friendly the place is, and Frank freaked. He accused them of stealing the supplies.”
“He reported that earlier today. Showed up without the rig,” Huber said. “Claimed raiders hit him. Lost some men during the attack.”
“Next thing I know, Frank’s got his gun out.”
“Why do we allow the suppliers to keep their weapons when they’re in town? I don’t see why they can’t drop them at the gate and pick them up when they leave,” Vincent said. He picked up a pad and pen and jotted notes onto the paper. “We’re going to readdress this issue. I’m sorry, Ben. Go on.”
“The guy, Tony, tried to get the gun out of his hand. The gun went off and he was actually shot and killed. Charlene attacked Frank. Knocked him down. From there, it was just out of control. I’m not sure I can even recall how everything happened,” Ben said, and shook his head as if he were trying to wipe the memories out of his mind.
“But Char shot and killed a woman?” Vincent said. “Ben?”
“Yes.”
“And she then killed two men. Stabbed them to death?” Vincent said. “Ben?”
“Yes, but—”
Vincent held up a hand, silencing his son. He then closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Look, I know you like this girl, Ben, but you know how the cou
rts work here.”
“I don’t think it was her fault.”
“Who’s was it? Frank’s?”
“He pulled a gun, dad.”
“And he’s dead. How is he going to stand trial? This girl —woman— killed three people. That is excessive violence. Three people! These weren’t zombies.”
“She was protecting her friends,” Ben said.
“We have three rules here, Ben. They’re simple. No stealing, no fighting and no murder. It’s kind of the Ten Commandments in three simple rules. She violated all three.”
A knock on the door interrupted his train of thought. He sighed. It was the middle of the night. The building was busy with people. Four people were dead. Everyone in town seemed to have learned the news already. City Hall was busier now than it was during the day.
“Come in,” Vincent said.
The office door opened and Deputy Sheriff Olek leaned in. “The boy, Samuel Gerringer? He didn’t make it. I just received word. Brain was swollen. Doc tried to relieve pressure. Drilled holes into the skull. He hemorrhaged. Was nothing more that could be done.”
Vincent silently nodded. “And the black woman?”
“No change. She’s still non-responsive. Doc said she’s in a coma.”
“She going to make it?”
“He said too soon to tell,” Deputy Sheriff Olek said. “And mayor?”
“Yes?”
“Rebecca Bowman is here to see you.”
Of course she is, he thought. “Send her in,” he said. He didn’t look at the deputy or his son. “Five people are dead. Five.”
“Mayor?”
“Come in, Rebecca. Please, come on in,” Vincent said as he stood up.
Benjamin and Huber stood up, as well. “Priestess,” they said.
“Close the door, would you?” Vincent said.
Rebecca closed the door.
Vincent went to a small closet and removed a folding chair.
“I’ll sit there,” Ben said to Rebecca. “You can have my chair.”
“That’s not necessary, but thank you,” she said. “Vincent, I just talked to the young girl.”
“And your thoughts?”
Arcadia (Book 1): Damn The Dead Page 13
