My gaze moves to Lucas. His eyes are closed, and he seems to be at peace. I can only imagine how rundown he must feel. On top of trying to keep us safe from any and all danger, and dealing with my erratic behavior, getting shot has got to be the final straw that has broken the camel’s back. I have asked so much of him, that now, I can’t ask anymore. He needs his rest, and deserves some peace for all that he has given me.
I kneel down beside him. I venture a thought of telling him what I’m planning to do, but stop. I imagine he’ll be pissed when he wakes up, but we can’t afford to wait that long. He’s in no condition for what lies before us, and Cassie might not have time for us to wait.
I reach over and rub the top of Duke’s mangy head. I can feel all sorts of dirt and stickers bound within his fur. He really needs a bath and a brush run through his nasty coat. I lean forward and kiss his nose. He smells awful, but I love him just the same. His tongue swipes across my face lovingly. He’s such a good dog.
“You take care of Lucas, ok. I’ll be back as soon as I can.” I give him one last tight hug around his neck and close my eyes. As much as I want to get to Cindy, as quickly as I can, I can’t leave Cassie to the whims of those perverted men. She was there for me when I needed it the most. Now it’s my turn to be there for her.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
I release my hold from around Duke’s neck and stand up. He starts to get up, but I halt him with my hand. “Not this time, boy. You’re staying here.”
He whines and groans, but stays put.
I turn toward Beverly. “Tell me you’re a good person?”
She glances back over her shoulder at me with a bewildered look on her face. “Excuse me?”
“Tell me you’re a good person. I need to hear you say it.” I repeat myself once more, more stern and direct. I’m not trying to be a dick, but I really need to know that she is. My gut says she is a good person, and someone I can hopefully trust, but there’s so much riding on it that I need to be certain. As much as I can, anyway.
Beverly lays her father’s hand by his side tenderly. She stands up and faces me. It’s not anger that swirls in her glassy eyes, but confusion.
I clarify what I mean. “I need to know that you’re a decent person, and you’ll look after Lucas and Duke until I get back. I’ve come across so many horrible people, and I’ve lost so much since this whole thing started that I can’t bear to lose anyone else. Someone recently told me that not everyone left living in this world is evil. I’m hoping that you’re one of the good people.”
Although most would probably consider my question an insult to their character, Beverly doesn’t seem to take offense. She stares at me for what feels like forever before offering an understanding nod. “You can trust me with your father and dog. I’ll care for them.”
All right. Like Lucas stated earlier, she could’ve left us outside. She also didn’t have to bring us up here and patch him up. It’s by no means a perfect measure to completely gauge a person’s character, but it’s all I have to go on right now.
“Thank you. When he wakes, tell him that I had to leave. I couldn’t wait any longer. I’ll return as quickly as I can.” I head for the door.
She grabs my arm, and I stop. I glance over my shoulder to her pink cheeks and red, puffy eyes.
“Where are you going? It’s dangerous out there, certainly no place for a young boy such as yourself.”
I know she means well, but she has no clue the horrors I have faced, and the obstacles I have overcome. I have lived a lifetime since all of this started. I’m more evolved than she can possibly understand.
Beverly realizes what she is doing. Her motherly instincts have kicked in to protect what she views as a child that needs a guiding hand at the moment. She finally releases my arm, and takes a step back.
“I’m going to get my friend, and your daughter back from those people.” I walk away. Her arm stretches toward me and her mouth opens, but the words don’t come to bear. They would fall on deaf ears, anyway. After all, I’m not her kid.
The only thing that I hear is the wood floor creaking with every step I take. My hand glides along the railing fixed on top of the banister. I hit the landing and glance over to see Duke standing just inside the space. His ears are perked like he wants to come to me, but his training and obedience won’t allow it. His head tilts back over his shoulder at Beverly, then back to me.
I love you, boy. I’ll see you soon.
I divert my gaze, and quickly make my way down the rickety stairs. Sunlight slowly bleeds in through the narrow openings within the walls. I pause, and take in the openness of the space.
Where is Shane at?
To my left is the narrow hallway that we came through earlier. To my right is another room that is slowly coming to life with strident rays of sunshine. My head twists from side to side with indecision.
Standing there, contemplating his whereabouts, my free hand brushes against the radio that is still attached to my hip. I pull it off my belt. Perhaps I can listen in on any transmissions that are being sent between them. It could aid in providing me a location of where they might be keeping Cassie. That is, if they haven’t figured out that one of their radios is missing. It’s a long shot, but one I’m willing to take. I have nothing to lose.
I secure the machete under my arm, and mess with the controls on top. I twist the dial clockwise to the far left, which brings to life a hiss of static. I adjust the dial to the right and thumb through the different channels.
Dad let me play with the ones he had when I was younger. He wanted me to be as familiar with the devices as I could be. At first, I would just toy with the radio, adjusting the knobs and controls without any sort of rhyme, or reason. Dad didn’t say much, though. He was pleased that I was finding an interest in such things. To be fair, I found the crackling of the speaker, and the high-pitched squeal, brought a subtle piece of joy to me. When a voice loomed from the speaker, it blew my mind. From that point on, Dad dove deeper on how to operate it more efficiently.
Today, nothing but static emits from the speaker. It echoes throughout the hollow, drab space.
Come on, what channel are you on?
I continue adjusting the controls. When I come across the faint sound of chatter in the air, I stop. I slowly work the control knob left to right, trying to focus in on the distorted voice. There. I think I have it.
I bring the speaker closer. I cock my head to the side, and listen closely. The signal dips in and out, making it difficult to hear clearly what is being said. Not sure if the building is interfering with the transmission, or if they are so far away that the signal is weak and losing its clarity.
A voice speaks free of distortion. “Your friend is a firecracker. A very spirited girl.” He sounds like he’s addressing me. What the hell? “Just a tip, in the future, you may want to not have the transmit button pressed until you’re ready to speak.
I pull the radio away from my ear in shock. I stare at the square black box. I finally realize that my finger has had the push-to-talk button pressed in. Perhaps he heard some ambient noise or something that gave me away. A blunder for sure. I know better. I’m more rattled by everything that is happening than I thought.
“Who are you, and why did you take my friend?” I release the button, this time, and wait for his reply.
The silence grates on my nerves. My eyes dash from side to side rapidly. I can feel the pit of my stomach boil, the rage churning like molten lava. Although I want him to respond, I’m also scared to hear the reason. With the lawlessness running unchecked throughout the country, his answer is probably going to be something that I’m going to regret hearing.
The radio clicks.
I flinch.
“Just know that she will make a wonderful addition to my stable of girls. This will be the last time you hear from her, James.”
In the background, and barely audible, Cassie’s angered barking can be heard. She threatens to maim and do other horrible things to the
vile men.
“Cassie!” I yell into the radio. “I’m com-”
The man chuckles and disconnects the feed.
I try to contain my emotions, but it’s a lost cause. The machete drops from under my arm and rattles about on the concrete. The noise doesn’t register. I’m drifting in and out of the panic and rage that is swallowing me whole. My thoughts conjure up scenes of her captors doing horrible things to her that I try to erase. Touching her inappropriately and anything else that would be deemed as just plain wrong. I battle the images that circulate through my mind. It makes me cringe and increases my anger tenfold.
My left hand balls into a fist, while the right grips the radio even harder. I glance about the space in search of something to abuse. A growl slips out through my taut lips. I give in to the violent feeling and release it.
I hurl the radio across the room. It slams into the wall and breaks apart. Pieces of the device pelt the floor. Her voice keeps playing inside my head as if fixed on an endless loop. One minute she’s threatening her captors, and the next she’s pleading for me to come and save her.
Doubt fills my thoughts, probing my resolve to the point of making me think that I can’t rescue her. After all, I’m only a kid, right?
The palms of both of my hands come up to my face. I stoop down and take in copious amounts of air to try and regain control. I can do it. I will rescue Cassie. Despite the odds, it will happen. I have survived this long. I’m not planning on dying yet.
I remove my cap and run my hands through my oily, matted hair. I take in one last gulp and exhale it slowly through my nose. It’s time to go.
I retrieve the machete from the floor, and slip the ballcap back onto my head. I make for the door at the end of the hallway with fire in my step. The palm of my hand presses against the cool metal surface and starts to push it open. I catch a whiff of something burning. The stench of smoke invades my nose. It smells like tobacco. It’s not coming from outside, though.
My head tilts back, and I test the air. The smell shifts to the right, toward the front of the building. I step away from the door and follow the pungent scent. There’s a room to my right with a missing door.
The cigarette smoke is sharp, and has a slightly sour note. Not quite like burning leaves, but similar. Man, I can’t believe I smoked those things back when the world first started to crumble around me, when I fled to the dense woods for my family’s cabin. Curiosity spurned me to try them. Man, once was enough for me to keep my distance from the dreadful cancer sticks.
I peer inside the dimly lit space, and find Shane in the far corner. He’s resting on a dingy paint bucket that is flipped upside down. He’s slouched and leaning against the wall as he takes a drag from the cigarette. His shotgun is laid across his lap with his right hand resting on the grip.
“Hey there, boy scout.” He belches a mouthful of smoke in my direction. The darkness and smoke conceal his face. I think he smirks at me, but I can’t really tell. “Having a moment out there, huh?”
I’m not in the mood for this guy’s B.S. My temper is at a point where I might, and probably will, say whatever pops into my head, which won’t benefit me. I need what information he has, so I keep my responses on point, and don’t give in to his comments.
“I was speaking with your mom, and she informed me that you know where the people who have your sister and possibly your brother are. Is that correct?”
He takes a long, drawn out drag that brightens the tip an orangish red hue. He removes the bud from his lips and holds it out toward me. I hold my hand up and shake my head no.
“Perhaps I do, but I’m not saying crap until you take a puff of this.” He waves the bud at me.
Ugh. Great. Guess I’ll have to play along to get what I need.
I take the shortened bud from his fingers. He nods his head for me to continue. The end slips between my lips. I take a slight puff and hand it back to him. He stops me.
“One more. Make it count this time, boy scout.”
Fine. The things I do to get what I need.
This time, I suck more of the toxic fumes into my mouth and lungs. My nose crinkles as if something horrid has invaded my mouth. The smoke chokes me up some. I cough and expel it out as I try to breathe. I hand it back, and he willingly takes it. I can honestly say that I’ve had more than my fill of those.
“So, why exactly do you want to know where those people are? Not exactly a place for a kid to be poking around. A good way for you to get killed. Although, if that’s what you want, there are much easier ways of that happening with those chaser things outside.”
I shake off the unsavory aftertaste of the cigarette. “I appreciate the concern, but I can handle myself.” My voice is thick with sarcasm. I don’t try to hide it. He snickers at the response. I guess he finds it, or me, amusing. “If you could just point me in the right direction, then I’ll be on my way, and I’ll leave you to pout down here in the dark.”
The words slip out. I can’t help it. I don’t try to hold it back. The words were not going to remain silent. They had to be set free. To be honest, though, I didn’t put up too much of a fight. I don’t have time for these games he’s playing. Cassie’s life is at risk, and so are his family’s.
The amusement clouding his face evaporates. His smirk changes to an angry frown. He discards the cigarette bud with a flick of his finger and stands up. This guy reminds me of the jocks and other meat heads from my school who thought they could push around anyone that looked as though they couldn’t defend themselves. I imagine he was a dick before all of this, and will probably remain one for the rest of his life. Sometimes, people don’t change.
“You got some balls on you, boy scout.” He gets but a scant inch away from my face. I have to tilt my head back slightly to look up at him, but I don’t back down.
“The name is James,” I sternly respond without a hint of trepidation lingering in voice. “If you just want to be an ass and not tell me, fine.”
Our eyes stay dead-locked for a few seconds longer before I pull away. As much as I want that information, I’m not going to be bullied in the process.
I make for the doorway, and pause just as I step out into the hallway. I glance back into the space and find Shane standing rigid with his head trained in my direction.
“You know, I get what you’re going through. I really do. I’ve lost a lot since this whole thing started. I’m not asking you for much. I’m just asking for you to help me save your family, and my friend, from some really bad people.”
I leave it at that and walk away. Like all things now, I’ll have to improvise and do my best with what I’ve got, which is literally nothing. Oh well. It is what it is, I guess.
I unlatch the door and carefully crack it open. I peer out into the space between the two buildings, checking to make sure the area is clear of any chasers or those people. There isn’t a soul in sight. I peer out and around the edge of the door toward the rear of the building. No movement.
My hands push the door open far enough for me to slip through. I step clear of the building, and allow the door to close. I trudge through the overgrown weeds, and make for the street.
Something moves behind me.
I stop and spin about on the heels of my boots. I bring the machete up over my head with the intention of slaying whatever might be there.
Shane pauses and puts his hands up. “Whoa, man. Chill. It’s just me.”
I sigh, and lower the dense blade. “What do you want, Shane? I don’t have any more time for your crap, man.”
He lowers his hands, and relaxes his defensive posture. His furrowed brow and angered face have all but changed to that of guilt and embarrassment. Another look that I’m familiar with.
“I’m not here to fight or argue with you,” he says.
“Then why are you here?”
Shane tugs at the pump action on the shotgun. He stares at me with an intense gaze. “I’m coming with you.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
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br /> Did I hear him correctly?
Perhaps my pointed words jabbed him deep enough for him to take action, and stop being an ass. I’m not sure if it will change that last part, but at least now, I can hopefully get what I need.
“You’re coming with me?” I clarify. I’m a bit taken back by his words. I know he has been chomping at the bit to go after his brother and sister, but he hasn’t wanted to leave because of his family who are here. “What about your mom and grandfather?”
Shane tilts his head forward. He removes the black beanie and digs his fingernails into the back of his scalp, as if to relieve a bothersome itch. He pulls back his semi-long strands of black hair, and secures the beanie back in place.
“To be honest, my mother is more than capable of taking care of herself. She’s killed a number of those chasers on her own. I know she may look fragile and unintimidating, but when push comes to shove, she has no problem throwing down if need be.”
I’m not one to underestimate anyone’s skillset in this hostile environment. Every person I come across is assumed to be able to handle themselves in a fight. I’d rather size people up that way than to be foolish, and think that they are meager just because of their looks. One thing I have learned so far in the apocalypse is that women are just as capable of taking care of themselves as men.
“Then why haven’t you gone to look for your brother and sister?” I pose.
I recall the conversation that Beverly and I had earlier about him, and I get it. Shane’s being pulled in two different directions. He’s trying to find some magical way of being able to protect his family here while also trying to save his siblings. It’s a tightrope that he must walk. I hope he doesn’t ask my opinion on the matter, though, as I am the last person in this world he needs to pump for advice. I’m doing what I think is best for me and my remaining family. I might be wrong, but it is my decision to make.
Dead State (Book 3): Executioner Page 12
