Burnt Road: Dante

by Neal, Toby

  Dante shook his head to clear it and pushed away from the rock. He willed his erection to soften as he walked around the shot-up hood of the Escalade to look down at the driver.

  That was enough to cool his blood.

  The man’s face was turned away. The heart shot had hit its mark, and the pool of blood under the body was a black stain on the pale ground.

  Caterpillar Hat was worse. He had no face, just a pulpy red mass where features used to be. The smell of blood was so thick it hurt his nostrils. Dante’s gaze skittered away from the carnage to rest on the hills, glowing gold with new day.

  “We should get on the road and leave this place.”

  “We can’t just leave them here.” Melody pointed to a black, circling shape far above. “Buzzards. It’s too awful. I know they were creeps, but still. We shouldn’t lose our humanity, too. Do you have a shovel?” Her hands were shaking. She was amped up on adrenaline.

  Her kiss seemed to have siphoned all of the discordant energy out of him. Dante was calm, clear, and more focused than he had been since leaving his compound yesterday. He felt amazing. She made him so.

  “Yes. I have a shovel. Find a spot to bury them. I will dig.”

  Melody walked back and forth, Abigail in her arms, Barkley nipping at her heels. She was still wearing a pair of tiny boxers and a T-shirt. The early morning light gleamed on her long, slim, tanned legs.

  Dante forced himself to stop watching Melody and open the back of the Escalade to find the folding camp shovel.

  How had Melody’s kiss restored him like this? Killing those men was a hugely traumatic event, but he felt like he’d woken from the best night’s sleep of his life, ready to take on the world.

  “Over here, Dante.” She’d found a sheltered spot next to a grouping of scrappy shrubs.

  Dante followed her over and dug the tip of the shovel into the earth.

  The exertion of digging felt good. He’d always used working out as a way to get back on an even keel, to “regulate” himself, as his therapist had called it. Once Dante understood himself, what he needed, he was systematic in optimizing his performance.

  Dante dug and dug, chipping at the ground, feeling the warmth of the sun on his back, allowing the rhythm of the chore to work its Zen.

  Not that he needed it, after her kiss.

  What would happen if he made love to her?

  He would be like Superman, able to leap tall buildings in a single bound.

  “What are you smiling about?” Melody dropped the second man’s heels beside him, and they raised a small burst of dirt as they thumped down on the ground. She had dragged both bodies over while he was digging, without fussing or complaining beyond a few muffled gagging noises. Even he knew it was unusual for a woman to be so brave. “This is hardly funny.”

  “I know.” Dante felt the heat of embarrassment wash over him, moving up his neck to burn his face, as it had several times since he met her yesterday. Now, that seemed like a lifetime ago.

  “So what are you smiling about?” Melody didn’t sound angry. He knew what anger sounded like. Mama had a temper, and though it was seldom directed at him, he’d witnessed her going after his brothers plenty of times with her words and a wooden spoon.

  Down in the hole, Dante leaned on the shovel and looked up at Melody, backlit by the morning, all legs and shiny hair. “I was smiling because your kiss made me feel so good.” He wished he were better with words. When he was typing, words flowed out from his fingers. Dante knew he could write what he felt and what he thought. Speaking words was hard, like the sounds were sticky and clung to his throat, refusing to come out. And when they did, they were usually wrong.

  He suspected they would be the wrong thing this time, too.

  But she had asked, so he would tell her. He was always truthful.

  “I was thinking that if your kiss made me feel this good, then I would be like Superman if I made love to you. Strong. Bulletproof. Able to fly. Able to carry you up to touch the stars. That’s what I was thinking.”

  Chapter Six

  Melody

  Dante stood in the grave, his shirt and hair lightly covered in pale yellow dust. There was even a smudge on his perfect nose. The words he’d spoken, his idea that making love to her would turn him into a superhero, warmed Melody from the inside out. A grin spread across her face and, despite the dead bodies at her feet and hot sun beating down on her head, she laughed. The release felt perfect, almost as perfect as his kiss.

  Melody had been the aggressor, but at the same time Dante came back with equal pressure and strength. The feel of his lips underneath hers, the rough brush of his tongue, and the hard grip of his fingers melted her, made her wild, made her feel so very alive.

  Melody stifled her giggles. “That’s really sweet. I’m glad you said it.”

  Dante looked back down at the dirt, clearly distressed. He thought she was laughing at him. “Then why did you laugh?”

  “Because that’s what I do when I’m happy.”

  Dante’s lips parted in the second smile Melody had seen from him as he glanced back up, golden eyes shining briefly like topazes. “So you agree that if we made love, I would be like Superman?”

  “Darling Spock, you’re already like Superman to me.” Melody turned, pirouetting on the ball of her foot, and giving her ass a little shake as she returned to the Escalade.

  Somehow, Dante made it easy to forget the state the world was in. The dead bodies and the congealed blood in the dust seemed like a movie set rather than reality. That line of thought felt good, because recognizing the truth of their situation was too overwhelming.

  Melody kept up that façade as they pushed the bodies into the hole and Dante buried them. But as Melody stood over the mound of dirt with the puppies playing at her feet, there was a tightness in her throat.

  Lives had been lost at the hands of the man standing next to her.

  “Should we say something?” Melody snuck a glance at Dante, who stood stiffly, his gaze resting on the grave.

  He bowed his head and closed his eyes. Melody did the same. Dante’s voice was soft and husky as he recited:

  “The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.

  He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: He leadeth me beside the still waters.

  He restoreth my soul: He leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for His name’s sake.

  Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.

  Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over.

  Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.”

  “That’s beautiful, Dante.”

  “Psalm 23. Mama had me memorize it when I was little. She said it would be a comfort to me, and it has been.” Dante turned and headed back to the Escalade. “We must go. The journey is still long.”

  Melody followed Dante back to the truck, looking forward to being ensconced in its luxury again, surrounded by music and under the soft breeze of air conditioning. Both of them were filthy. Hopefully, they’d find a lake or a river tonight so they could bathe.

  If she was going to turn him into Superman, Melody wanted to clean up first.

  Dante changed into a fresh pair of dark cargo pants and another long-sleeve black shirt. She suspected he wore the same outfit every day. Melody put on a pair of shorts and a clean T-shirt and pulled her hair up into a ponytail. Then she got into the passenger seat, and dropped the puppies at her feet. The car was already stiflingly hot.

  Dante turned the key, but nothing happened. He tried again without result, so he pulled the hood opener and went around front to prop the hood up. His head disappeared as he investigated.

  Melody joined him, and drew a quick breath at the sight of the bullet holes riddling the engine.

  Dante stood looking
down with his hands on his hips. “We have a problem. The engine has been compromised.”

  “No shit.” Melody scanned the obvious damage. “Oh my God, what are we going to do?”

  Dante turned and headed toward the dead men’s truck. That truck wouldn’t start, either. She remembered that they’d said they were almost out of gas, and there were several bullet holes in the grill.

  “We will have to walk.” Dante went around to the back of the Escalade and began to reorder his supplies. He didn’t miss a beat, not wasting time on angry frustration or second-guessing, as most people would have. Melody stared out at the desert. Heat shimmered over the land, blurring the view of sand, shrubs, and cactus.

  Walk. Okay. If they had to walk, they had to walk.

  Melody set the pups loose, then looked over Dante’s shoulder as he organized freeze-dried food, beginning to stow the supplies into a backpack. “Please pack enough for both of us and the puppies.”

  “I did not prepare for two.”

  “I know that. But Superman can do anything, right?”

  Dante ducked his head and red swept up his olive skin. Melody couldn’t help herself. She reached out and grabbed a handful of those glossy black curls. She turned him toward her, drawing him tight against her body, taking his mouth again.

  Dante reacted quickly, his movements stark and direct as he grabbed her, squeezing her, and grinding her against him. He dove into her mouth more urgently than he had before. His hand slid up under her shirt, reaching for her breasts.

  Melody stepped back, gasping for breath, her palm on his chest holding him at bay. They couldn’t do this here, in the middle of the hot desert with the stink of blood still in the air and buzzards circling above them. Melody looked into Dante’s eyes. They were molten gold, almost feverish, and they skittered away from hers even as he squeezed her. Hard.

  Oh my God, he is so intense.

  The guy was definitely inexperienced; he’d admitted as much in the car. But he was catching on fast.

  Melody stepped further back. “Sorry, I just…”

  “You do not need to apologize. I enjoyed myself.” Dante turned back to the pile of food and camping gear.

  She couldn’t help smiling. He was funny.

  They finished packing, saving most of the weight for water, and then struck out. It was the worst part of the day to be traveling, but Melody was glad to be moving away from the stalled vehicles and the lingering atmosphere of death.

  The puppies tired quickly, so Dante picked them up, carrying one under each arm. His hair was tucked back under that billed cap. With the mirrored aviator glasses, a pistol on one hip and a knife on the other, he looked tough. But the squirming puppies in his arms definitely brought the badass factor down a notch.

  And the cuteness factor way up.

  But he was tough.

  Dante had killed those men without hesitation.

  Being alone in the tent, with those two little puppies to protect, Melody’s heart had pounded so hard. Dante was right: they would have raped her. A chill ran over Melody, raising goose bumps as she pushed away hazy, terrifying memories.

  To move past that, she mentally re-created their walk across the desert as a TV set.

  They were Star Trek characters, Uhura and Spock, setting off across an alien landscape, on a mission to go where no one had gone before.

  After an hour they stopped to rest, both guzzling water. Dante checked his maps. “We will have to camp in the desert tonight, but there is a town we should be able to reach early tomorrow.”

  “Sounds good.”

  Hours later, as the sun set and the air cooled, Dante set up a small tent. It was not nearly as luxurious as the one on top of the Escalade; this one-man pop-up was barely big enough for the two of them with the puppies snuggling between. But Melody slept hard and fast, sticky with sweat from a long, hot day of walking, secure in her safety next to Spock, soon to be her Superman, when the time was right.

  They started out again the next morning at dawn, and reached the town Dante had identified on his map. The small municipality on the flat desert plain spread out around the two-lane highway. The sun was still low in the east, casting long blue shadows onto the deserted main street. The wind picked up, and it carried the sweet, ripe stench of death and decay.

  “Maybe we can get a car here, Dante.”

  “Yes. I have funds.”

  “Me, too.” She’d brought her jewelry collection: some of it inherited from her mother, other pieces she’d bought for herself, and some were gifts from former lovers. Melody had enough gold and diamonds on her to buy them a fleet of cars. She was prepared for this disaster in her own small way.

  The stench grew stronger as they moved down Main Street. Melody twirled her ring, a nervous habit that brought her little comfort. Something felt very “off” here.

  A door banged back and forth under a sign for the medical clinic, and as they approached, the hairs on Melody’s arms rose. The door was blocked by a swollen corpse and that wasn’t the only one; the interior was filled with bodies. Flies buzzed loudly.

  How had she missed the sound? Now, it was all she could hear. “How could all these people be dead?”

  “The Scorch Flu moves very quickly. It is extremely deadly. People gather when they are dying.”

  Melody glanced at Dante. His face was calm, except for a small crease at the side of his mouth. It wasn’t a smile or frown; maybe it was a line of concentration.

  “Everyone can’t be dead.” Melody looked up and down the street. There was no sign of life, just that horrible buzzing.

  “The Scorch Flu is fatal to ninety percent of the adult population. Perhaps anyone who survived has left. We should gather supplies, find a vehicle, and move on.”

  “We can’t just leave them like that.” As if to emphasize her point a buzzard landed and began to peck at the ankle of the corpse blocking the doorway. Melody yelled, and waving her arms, lunged toward it.

  The giant black bird, its bald head covered in scaly red skin, took off with a strip of flesh in its beak. Bile burned her throat and Melody turned, retching up the freeze-dried beans she’d had for breakfast.

  Dante held out his canteen. She took it and the cool water in her mouth was a relief. She swirled it and then spat.

  “We have to do something with those bodies, Dante, we just have to. We cannot just leave them like this.”

  “If you want, we can burn them. I will burn them for you, Melody.”

  She looked at him, and his amber eyes flicked to meet hers, brief and almost caressing. They were so soft. He’d do anything for her.

  A sob welled up in her chest and she grabbed Dante, burying her face in his neck and letting the tears at the horror flow. He held her so hard she almost couldn’t breathe. And it felt good. It felt right. She squeezed him back. They hugged there in the middle of that abandoned town with the stench of death all around them and the drone of flies vibrating the air.

  What would she do without him?

  Melody wiped her eyes, stepping back. “Thank you. Let’s go look for supplies and some sort of accelerant.”

  Dante nodded, then looked down at his hand, then at hers and then at his again. She grasped his to end the struggle. “Stay close, okay?”

  Dante nodded and they walked to the first house, the puppies following.

  They discovered jugs of water, canned food, and plenty of other supplies. They piled everything they might need on the street to be collected later. When they reached a small house just off Main Street, Dante opened the door and walked right in, still holding Melody’s hand.

  They had stopped bothering to knock, because there was never anyone home. But in this house, they heard coughing from upstairs. Melody’s heart rate spiked, and she bounded up the steps, Dante running after her as she followed the sound. She burst into a room and found a man, gray and dying, in his bed.

  He managed to gather enough breath to speak. “Kill me. Please. Kill me.” Coughing racke
d through him, his body contorted, his face blotchy and red.

  Melody started forward but Dante yanked her back. Her shoulder wrenched as Dante’s fingers dug into her bicep.

  “Ow! What are you doing?”

  “He’s infected. You must be careful. You can’t get sick.”

  “He needs our help!” Melody fumbled with her canteen. “We have to help him.”

  “Please, please kill me,” the man wheezed.

  Melody heard a snap. Dante’s hand was on his pistol. He unholstered it, still holding her back. He brought the weapon up, aiming at the man in the bed.

  “What are you doing?” Melody’s voice was strangled.

  “Helping him.”

  The shot rang out so loudly that it seemed to fill the room as every molecule in the place vibrated with the intensity of it. Melody screamed and staggered back, pulling her arm free.

  The man was dead. A bullet hole ruined his forehead, and red saturated the white pillow beneath him.

  This is just a movie. It’s not real.

  But it was real. It was so damn real.

  Dante, with no expression on his face whatsoever, had just shot a helpless, dying man.

  Melody’s gaze roamed from the body on the bed down to the floor, traveled across the worn green carpeting and landed on her own hiking boots. They were covered in dust and now splattered with little red dots of blood.

  She looked at Dante, taking in his face as he holstered the weapon. His handsome, chiseled features were as empty and blank as a cardboard movie poster, propped in the lobby of a cinema like some director’s idea of a psychopathic murderer.

  The man she owed her life to, who was supposed to get her safely to Idaho, was a stone cold killer.

  Melody’s eyes rolled back and her knees folded as she crumpled toward the filthy floor.

  Chapter Seven

  Dante

  Dante caught Melody as she collapsed, easing her toward the floor, but only long enough to change his stance so he could lift her up into his arms.

  He didn’t want her touching anything in this contaminated, filthy room.