Oh, for fuck’s sake. If I still had Sally on me, I think I might have shot myself right then for being so easily fooled. And by a sixteen-year-old kid who looked like Ellen DeGeneres, of all people. But all I could do was shake my head and wait for what was coming to us.
Death.
“Have you ever been gang raped before?” Kyle asked, securing my hands to a metal rack with plastic zip ties.
They put me between Cathy and Brian, with Robinson on the front end. Quiet Mike stood guard, gun up, finger on the trigger, watching our every move—making sure we didn’t try anything. Brenda paced around further out, keeping an eye on both entrances to the receiving area.
I almost slipped up and told Kyle I was a virgin, and then realized that definitely wouldn’t make the situation any better. For all I knew, he was asking a serious question, not just returning the scare I’d given him earlier. And I was about as fresh a fish as they were likely to find in these end times.
“Actually, I have,” I replied. “It’s a long story.”
He looked at me questioningly, unsure of whether or not I was being serious.
Success!
Then he went to help Charlie finish securing Robinson.
“Nice uniform,” Charlie said to Robinson. “I had one a lot like it.”
“I heard,” Robinson scoffed.
“Oh yeah, what else did Kyle tell you about me?”
“Enough.”
Charlie leaned in close to Robinson’s face. “Did he tell you what happened to the last guy like you that thought he could fuck with me? I shot him in the face.”
“You’re sick.”
Charlie coughed in Robinson’s face. Then he grinned wildly. “Hope you don’t catch it.”
Shirtless Brett, now revealed as Kyle’s older brother, held up Robinson’s walkie-talkie. “Boss … what do you make of this?”
Charlie took the walkie, examined it.
“The guy out front has the other half,” Kyle said.
“And he’s the last one?”
“No, there’s one more. Another black guy, with a big beard. I don’t know where he is. He should have been with them.”
Charlie walked back over to Robinson. “Where’s your black buddy, huh?”
“Don’t know.”
Charlie drew back and launched his fist into Robinson’s stomach—as hard a punch I’d seen outside of a boxing match. The thump sound made me wince. Robinson instantly crumpled forward as much as the zip ties would allow him.
Charlie gave Robinson a moment to recover, and then said, “Let’s try this again. Where’s your buddy?”
“Stop it,” Cathy cried out. “Why are you doing this?”
“Because I can, that’s why. See … watch closely this time.” Again Charlie slammed his fist into Robinson’s stomach, even harder than before. Robinson grunted, his head bobbing forward, spit dripping out of his mouth. “What are you gonna do about it, huh?” He began slapping Robinson on the side of his head. “What do you got for me?”
“Let them go,” Robinson said, breathing heavily. “You can torture me all you want. Just let them go.”
Charlie started laughing. He looked back at his associates, who joined him in joyously mocking Robinson’s suggestion. “You think this is a negotiation? Man, you’re dumber than you look.”
On my left, Cathy continued to sob uncontrollably, while her husband to my right looked on in a daze, his eyes barely open, swollen black and blue. His nose had a trail of dried blood running out of it. His clothes were sliced clean open in numerous places, as if he’d been in a knife fight. He hung from the rack by his hands, his legs wobbly beneath him. He had lost a lot of blood. He couldn’t take much more punishment. He was near death, and perhaps death would be best. I didn’t think I could last as long as he had—a whole day as someone’s punching bag—a channel to release all the hateful energy in their heart.
“One more time,” Charlie said. “You tell me where your buddy ran off to … or I swear to God you’re gonna be sorry. This is your last chance.”
Robinson looked up, met eyes with Charlie. “I’m not scared of you.”
Charlie held Robinson’s stare. Neither man wanted to back down. “Fine. If you’re not going to talk. Maybe your friends here will.”
“Don’t touch them,” Robinson said.
“Try and stop me.”
Charlie began walking toward Cathy.
“Stop,” Robinson pleaded. “Come back. I’ll tell you. I swear.”
Charlie stopped, turned to acknowledge Robinson. “I knew I could get it out of you somehow.”
“Just don’t hurt them.”
“Then start talking.”
“First you promise not to hurt them.”
Charlie smirked. “Scout’s honor.”
Robinson had to know by now that Charlie’s word was about as good as the Westboro Baptist Church. But if nothing else, the more he kept Charlie talking, the more time it would give Bowser and Ted to find us. If the infected in the parking lot hadn’t already squashed our last hope.
“Well…” Charlie said.
Before Robinson could say another word, Ted’s voice came in over the walkie.
“Robinson, you there?”
Charlie stared down at the radio in his hand, looking unsure of how to proceed—if he should answer or not.
After a moment, Ted tried again. “Hello? Robinson? Jimmy? Anybody there? We’re okay. Bowser got the infected away from the car long enough for me to escape. Then we killed them.” I noticed Charlie’s eyes widen as Ted said killed them. He was listening intently. We all were. “We’re back at the SUV now. We expected you guys to be here by now. Where are you? Can you hear me? Come in.”
“Here’s what’s gonna happen now,” Charlie began. “I’m gonna hold up the walkie and you’re gonna tell him that you left.”
“Left how? He’s waiting at our car.”
“I don’t fucking care!” Charlie shouted. “You took another car! You tell him you left! Got it?”
“He won’t believe it.”
“Then you’ll have to make him believe it … or I’m gonna have to get real nasty. You haven’t seen half of what I’m capable of. Don’t make me show you.”
“Robinson, you there?” Ted asked again. He waited for an answer, and then said, “We’re coming inside to look for you.”
“Okay, you ready?” Charlie asked. “Just as I said.” He held the walkie up to Robinson’s face, pushed the talk button.
“Ted, I’m here. Don’t go into the store.” He paused, no doubt making Charlie’s nerves rattle a little. Robinson still seemed short of breath, and as best as he tried, he couldn’t hide the desperation in his voice. “We’re on our way back to Cathy’s.”
“I don’t understand,” Ted replied. “Why would you leave without saying anything?”
“I don’t know. I’m sorry.”
“It just doesn’t make any sense. You’re just gonna run off without making sure me and Bowser were okay. That’s not like you.”
“I know,” Robinson replied. “I figured you guys could handle it.”
“Are you okay? You don’t sound like yourself.”
Charlie let go of the talk button. “Don’t fail me now. I’m warning you.”
“Even if they leave, it won’t take them long to realize I was lying. They’ll figure it out. Then they’ll come back.”
“Robinson? You still there?” Ted asked. “What’s going on man? Just tell me.”
Charlie bowed his head for a second, sighed loudly. The anger was gradually rising up in him with each passing second. He struggled to contain it. “You need to do a better job.”
“I’m doing the best I can. I told you he wouldn’t believe it.”
“You need to do a better job!” Charlie yelled. “Do you hear me? You say whatever you have to say! You get them to leave now or you die!”
Charlie breathed hard—in, out, in, out—trying to cool the red-hot blood rushing to his face.
He held the walkie back up to Robinson’s mouth, and whispered, “Do as I say, you stupid nigger. Or die.”
Robinson need not offer any response. He stared Charlie down, like a poker player trying to get a read on his opponent, trying to determine if he was bluffing. Trying to figure out if he should fold, or push all his chips into the center.
Finally, Robinson nodded.
A hint of a smile appeared on Charlie’s face. Then he pushed the talk button back down.
One. Final. Time.
“Ted, are you still there?” Robinson said. His voice was calm now. He didn’t seem the least bit nervous anymore, and I knew immediately what he was going to do. Charlie had aces in the hole. Robinson was beat. We all were. But we weren’t out. Not yet. And our only hope of getting out of here alive stood on the other end of the radio.
“Hey, I thought I’d lost you,” Ted replied. “I guess we’ll talk more when we get back to Cathy’s.”
“We’re being held hostage in the back of the—” Robinson suddenly yelled into the radio. Charlie, cutting Robinson off before he could finish his sentence, pulled the walkie away and smashed it against the cement floor, causing a few pieces to fly off in different directions.
Charlie backed away, clearly shocked that Robinson had the nerve, or guts, to defy him. He started laughing like a loon, yelling up at the ceiling in a fit of glee. It was odd to see the rage in him die down so fast, as though breaking the walkie had temporarily satisfied him. After a moment, he stopped laughing and reset his emotions, settled back into leader mode. In control.
He calmly addressed his followers. “Kyle, Brenda, Mike … go make sure nobody gets in here. Check all the doors, and all the windows up front. If you find anyone, you kill them. Understand?”
The three of them nodded and then ran out.
Charlie walked over to where Brett stood on the opposite end of the receiving area. Next to them was a desk. On top, a small collection of firearms.
“What about me?” Brett asked, picking up a semi-automatic rifle.
“You stay back here. Keep watch of the doors. Don’t let anyone get the jump on us.”
“What are you gonna do?”
Charlie slowly reached down and picked up a silver pistol from the desk, made sure it was loaded. “I’m gonna have a little fun,” he said, smiling, “and teach someone a valuable lesson.”
“You made a big mistake,” Charlie said. He was standing in front of Robinson again, close enough their noses nearly touched.
“Did I?”
Charlie nodded, pressed the silver pistol into Robinson’s midsection. “When I’m through with you and your friends here, y’all are gonna wish you died years ago. I promise you that.”
“If you’re trying to scare me, you’re gonna have to try harder. This ain’t the first time I’ve had a gun pointed at me.”
“Oh, I don’t doubt that. But how many times have you been shot?” Robinson didn’t respond. “That’s what I thought,” Charlie said, lifting his wife beater up, exposing some deep circular scarring near the bottom of his ribcage. “I’ve been shot twice. Same night. Same guy. I was a rookie then. First year out of the academy. I was responding to an armed robbery in progress. A couple of hostages. Long story short, I made a mistake, thought I could reason with the guy. Ended up getting two in the chest and a bunch of long nights in the hospital. Asshole who shot me got away before the backup arrived, but he eventually got his. I made sure of it. And hey … now that I think of it … he looked an awful lot like you.”
I closed my eyes, tried to imagine what Ted and Bowser were doing at that moment. Hoping Robinson’s cry for help had registered over the walkie. Hoping they would find their way in safely, avoiding Charlie’s goons. I opened my eyes back up when I heard the footsteps. Charlie had moved down the line, and now stood in front of Cathy.
“Don’t think I’ve forgotten about you honey,” he said, lightly touching her face. Cathy pulled away, trembling. “You’re a pretty thing. Once we make sure your boys are all squared away, you and I are gonna have some fun.”
I looked away in disgust as Charlie then slid his hand down and began touching Cathy’s breasts. I closed my eyes, wishing I could close my ears as well so I wouldn’t have to listen to her sobbing.
Even with my eyes closed, I knew Charlie was smiling. I could feel it. He enjoyed humiliating Cathy, aroused by the power he had over her. Over all of us.
He was a monster.
“What’s wrong?” Robinson asked. “You already had enough of me?”
“Don’t worry. I’ll be back to deal with you in a minute.” Charlie moved on from Cathy and stopped in front of me. “You scared, kid?”
No, not scared. Terrified. But I wouldn’t let him know that. I wouldn’t give him what he wanted. If it was my time to die, then I’d at least like to take my pride with me to the grave. And even if I somehow managed to survive this night, how much longer would I have anyway? How many times had I almost died over the last few days? Dozens. So as bad as it seemed, hanging there tied up with little hope of escape, things could have been worse. I could have been one of the billions of infected migrating north or west or wherever. Unlike them, I still knew my name. I still had my mind. My memories. If only for a few more seconds. I was Jimmy, and I’d damn well die as Jimmy.
“I can tell you’re smarter than your friend over there,” Charlie said. “You’ve kept quiet. You know better than to run your mouth. But now I’m asking you a direct question, and you better answer.” He pressed the barrel end of the gun into the center of my chest. “Are you scared?”
I summoned up enough courage to shake my head. “There’s nothing to be scared of.”
Charlie took the gun off my chest and stepped back a few feet. I looked down as he made a fist around the gun and then swung his arm back like he was going to hit me with it. Then stopped.
I flinched. Held my breath. Waited for the impact. Charlie starting laughing, and then lowered the gun.
“What did ya think I was gonna do?” he said, still smiling. “This?” Then he drew back fast and hammered me in the face with the butt of the pistol. My glasses nearly went flying off, but thankfully didn’t break.
For a moment, I saw stars. My vision blurred. My head felt twice as heavy. A surge of pain rushed to the left side of my face all at once, and I could feel my cheek instantly begin to swell from the corner of my mouth up to my left eye. I wanted to touch it, try and sooth it, but my hands were bound. All I could do was wince and fight back the urge to cry. I felt like I was in seventh grade again, after being blindsided by a soccer ball. Only back then, there hadn’t been any evil intent, and no one had laughed in my face afterward. Laughed loud and hard like Charlie now laughed.
He moved on to the last in the line.
Brian.
“See what you did,” Charlie said. “This is all your fault. I hope you know that. If you hadn’t come in here thinking you could take my stuff, none of this would have happened. Your buddy out there by the pharmacy wouldn’t be dead. None of these people would be here right now, including your wife.” Charlie leaned in closer to Brian, lifted his limp head up, and began to whisper. “And when I rape her … that’ll be your fault too.”
I doubted if Cathy or Robinson could hear Charlie whispering, which was a good thing, but unfortunately, I still could. Even with the left side of my face blowing up like a balloon, my hearing seemed to grow more sensitive.
Charlie pressed the silver pistol against Brian’s forehead. “What if I killed him right now,” he said to the rest of us. “This poor excuse for a man you came to save. How sad would you be?”
Cathy pleaded for him to stop.
“You’re going to hell you piece of shit,” Robinson shouted back.
“Don’t you realize,” Charlie said, lowering the gun. “We’re already in hell.” He walked back over to Robinson. “What’s that? You hear that?”
I heard it.
It was the sound of gunfire, coming from s
omewhere in the store. Not near, but not too far either.
“Sounds like your buddies won’t be saving you after all. What a pity.”
“I don’t need anyone to save me,” Robinson said. “I could take you out myself.”
“Really?” Charlie smirked. “How you gonna do that?”
“Take these straps off and see for yourself. You’re nothing but a phony. A fake. And you know it. You think you’re tough cause you got a gun. Put it down, take off these straps, and let’s see how tough you really are. I dare you.”
I waited for Charlie to laugh at Robinson’s challenge, but his sudden silence told me he was actually considering it. Robinson had called him out, questioned his manhood, and Charlie didn’t like it one bit.
More gunfire erupted somewhere out there. Somewhere outside of the back hall. I couldn’t tell if it was closer or not. My senses were still in a weird tailspin after getting my face bashed.
Charlie slowly backed away. “Fine. I was gonna make your death as painless as possible, but if you’d rather me beat the life out of you, so be it. Won’t be the first nigger I’ve killed with my bare hands.”
“You know, you’re not the first person to call me that word,” Robinson replied. “It didn’t hurt me then, and it won’t hurt me now.”
Charlie shrugged, pointed the pistol at Robinson. “Maybe not, but this will.”
And then he pulled the trigger.
Brett ran back into the receiving area at the sound of the gun going off. “What happened?” He looked at Charlie. Then at Robinson. “Oh…”
“Go do your job, Brett,” Charlie said, frustration in his voice. “Don’t let anyone back here. I’m gonna finish the rest of them off. Okay?”
Shirtless Brett nodded and then scurried off, rifle in both hands.
I couldn’t tell where Charlie had shot Robinson, but it wasn’t in the face. Robinson was still alive, squirming and grimacing in pain. Charlie shoved the barrel of the silver pistol in his pants and took a knife off his belt. Then he began cutting the zip ties holding Robinson up.
Dead Highways (Book 2): Passage Page 19
