Troop of Shadows

by Nicki Huntsman Smith

  Pablo had to laugh. “Yes, this will do fine.”

  An hour later they were on the road.

  “Did you find anything useful in here?” asked Pablo.

  It was a sweet ride with only 157 miles on the odometer. Someone must have driven it off the lot, perhaps stolen, not long before arriving at the cabin. Still, as comfortable and practical as the new vehicle was, the sight of his beloved Jeep in the rearview mirror had tugged at his heart strings. He imagined it now, abandoned and alone, like a dog left chained to a tree.

  “Some supplies...bottled water, the chicken noodle soup you enjoyed for dinner last night, and the instant coffee you had with the breakfast pears. There was also a photograph album, but no people. I can only assume the worst.”

  “I wonder where they went to die,” said Maddie.

  It was an unanswerable question, but Amelia replied anyway. “Look around you,” she said, indicating the panorama beyond the Toyota’s windows. “When it’s my time, if my knees haven’t given out by then, I will find the prettiest parcel of nature I can and walk toward the sunset. Who would choose to take their last breath inside a manmade hunk of metal?”

  Maddie smiled. “You’re right. It’s just that we’ve come across so many who did just that.”

  Amelia gave a disgusted snort. “That’s no way to face death. The way I see it, there are only two ways to go: peacefully in the arms of the Earth Mother or fighting to protect those you love.”

  “I agree,” said Maddie. Pablo suspected these two women would be in accord on most issues.

  “Tell us about the people in the photos,” he said.

  “They were a lovely mixed race couple. The woman was like me and the man was white. In their late thirties, I would say. No children, but a dachshund who appeared to have appropriated that role. They liked to travel. There were photographs of them taken all over the world.”

  “What did you do with it? The photo album?”

  “I took it out to a pond near the cabin and found a spot that looked out over the water with the mountains in the background. A beautiful view. I left it next to an ancient bristlecone pine. It gives me pleasure to think about it still resting there. Perhaps it’s close to where its owners lie. I like to think so, anyway.”

  He glanced at the woman in the rearview mirror; noticed a silvery tear slide down the brown cheek, but her voice remained steady.

  “Maddie, you’re clearly of Irish descent with that beautiful red hair and those sapphire eyes. What about you, Pablo? I gather from your name and coloring that you have Latino blood, but your eyes tell me there must be something else in the mix.”

  The suggestion caught him by surprise. Yes, his golden eyes were unusually light, as was his skin compared to most of the other immigrant families, but his parents had come from Guanajuato, and he’d always assumed his skin tone was the result of a rogue chromosome left over from some light-skinned ancestor. His father joked about his mother and the mailman, but they were just that — jokes. And there’d never been any other siblings with whom to compare.

  “Both of my parents are...were...Mexican. I’m just your typical second generation wetback. Nothing special.” He was surprised by the bitterness in his own voice. He thought he’d put those feelings behind him.

  “Nothing special? I doubt that. You think like a philosopher, and you speak like a Rhodes Scholar.”

  Pablo felt his cheeks redden with the compliment.

  “Your parents, were they also exceptional?”

  He squirmed a bit under the scrutiny of those wise eyes. “Exceptional? I would say yes, but not in a way that would have been apparent to most. They came from Mexico before I was born. They worked the farms in southern California for several years before moving to Arizona. It was an arduous, difficult existence, but was required to provide a better future for their family. It took them many years to learn the language. Even at the end, I often had to translate for them, so in the intellectual arena, I would say they were not exceptional. But I can say that I always knew I was loved and cherished. I never questioned that they would lay down their lives for me. Would that lifelong dedication to raising and loving a child make them exceptional?”

  “If there had been more people like them in the world,” Amelia said, “there wouldn’t have been such a demand for shrinks and antidepressants. So the answer is, of course, yes.”

  He saw her smile in the rearview mirror. What an unusual little woman she was. The resentment he’d been feeling at being forced to include her in their journey was dissolving, like rice paper in a summer shower.

  “We’re coming up to Flagstaff,” Maddie said, as she studied the atlas. “I think we should look for food there...on the outskirts.”

  Pablo felt stirrings of unease as memories of the Walgreen’s incident sprung out of the dark place in which he preferred to keep it. “I don’t want to make you angry, but I wish you would let me do the canvassing by myself. I can’t bear to put you in danger. Again.”

  “I know that, but I’m not one of those women who lets her man do all the heavy lifting and bug squishing. Life these days is nothing more than one risk after another, and I won’t be delegated to helpless female status. I’m sorry, but you’ll just have to deal with that.”

  “Hey, don’t forget about me,” Amelia piped up from the back seat. “I’m small, but I’m wiry. And I have a mean left hook!”

  They encountered more obstructing vehicles the closer they got to the city, but the Highlander handled the occasional off-roading with no problem. Pablo ignored the morbid human instinct to peer inside as they drove past. He’d already seen enough corpses to last a lifetime.

  “There. A Circle K on the right. Maybe we can top off the tank too.”

  They pulled into the parking lot of the gas station convenience store. Two cars occupied the spaces next to the front door. A dilapidated Ford Focus was parked by the dumpster in the back. All three automobiles were covered in a fine layer of dust.

  “I’m going in first, no arguing,” he said.

  “I’m right behind you.”

  “And I’m right behind you both.” The little woman carried a knife the length of her forearm. She must have stored it in the battered backpack she’d brought with her.

  “Don’t look so surprised, Pablo. Yes, I’m a peacenik, but I’m not a stupid peacenik.”

  The door was intact. When he opened it, a bell tied to a string tinkled from above the doorframe; not a high-tech security system, but an effective one. Late morning sunshine filtered in through the dirty glass half-walls, revealing near-empty shelves. Two bottles of nail polish remover and a can of WD40 were all that remained. Pablo gestured to the employees only door at the back. The women nodded.

  He held the shotgun ready and pushed open the door as Maddie clicked on her flashlight. The tinkling of another bell announced their arrival to whomever or whatever might be hiding in the stockroom. Like a divine shaft illuminating the Holy Grail, the beam exposed a dragon’s treasure of processed food: boxes of Cheez-Its, plastic bags of jerky, cans of Dinty Moore beef stew, and in the center of the horde was a small, shrine-like mound of Sour Patch Kids, Whoppers, SweeTarts, and...M&Ms.

  A stirring came from the farthest corner of the room. Maddie pivoted with the flashlight. In the circle of light stood a child. An elfin, smudged-faced girl with hair the color of onyx and a thin body draped in filthy rags. Enormous, sea-green eyes stared back at them with unnerving tranquility.

  “We won’t hurt you,” Maddie said, her tone gentle.

  The strange eyes blinked once. The small body made no other movement.

  “What is your name?”

  Not even an eye blink.

  “Are you alone here?” asked Pablo, his voice louder than he’d intended.

  The dark head tilted a fraction of an inch to the right. Did she not understand the question, or was she indicating the presence of someone else? Spectral fingers brushed the back of Pablo’s neck.

  “Can you t
alk? Can you tell us your name?”

  No response.

  Was she in shock? God only knew what she’d been through the past year.

  “I’m going to walk toward you, okay? You don’t need to be afraid of us. We’re nice people,” Maddie said.

  With a calm, unswerving gaze, the child watched her approach. Pablo followed three feet behind. Amelia stayed back, an audience of one to the unfolding drama.

  “My name is Maddie.” She squatted down next to the little girl. “What’s yours?”

  Two eye blinks this time. Was that progress?

  “Can you talk, sweetie?”

  The dark head turned, looking at something in the far corner.

  “Is there something there you want to show us?”

  A quick nod.

  Maddie smiled. “Let’s see what you have.”

  The child scampered toward the back of the room, her lithe movements like those of a tiny ballerina, uncommonly graceful for one so young.

  The flashlight’s beam followed her. A rag-covered back was turned toward them as the child rummaged through a cardboard box. When she danced back, she carried a naked Barbie doll and the leathery remains of a human hand.

  “Oh,” squeaked Maddie.

  “Where did you get that?” Pablo demanded, discomfited by this creature. The sea-green eyes glided toward his voice, then slid over him, either unconcerned or unseeing. They came to rest again on Maddie’s face and the tiniest of grins tugged at one side of the dirty, heart-shaped face.

  The cherub mouth opened and chirped one syllable:

  “Pa.”

  “This is your daddy’s hand?”

  A nod of the dark head.

  “And who is this?” Maddie indicated the doll.

  The child hesitated, perhaps wondering if a grownup could be trusted with such proprietary information.

  The crook of a grimy finger drew Maddie’s ear close.

  “Oh, I see. Well, that’s a coincidence, isn’t it?”

  The dark head bobbed.

  “What about you? Do you have a name too?”

  Another crooked finger.

  “What a pretty name! May I share it with my friends? That’s Pablo with the scary gun. I promise, he only uses it on bad men and monsters. And the lady with the braided hair is Amelia.”

  The child’s gaze settled on Pablo, as if seeing him for the first time, then traveled to their new friend, who had quietly approached. The dark head tilted again; the green eyes scrutinized the small woman for seconds longer than they’d studied him.

  Finally, a slow nod.

  “Pablo and Amelia, may I introduce you to Jessie? It’s short for Jessica.”

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Jessie,” Amelia said.

  “What happened to the people who drove the cars here?” Pablo asked.

  She couldn’t be more than seven or eight-years-old, but those eyes, unnaturally large in the thin face, were like malachite marbles and exuded no more emotion than the mineral itself. They rested again on Pablo.

  He felt ashamed suddenly. What had this little girl been through the past year? What horrors had she witnessed? How had she managed to survive? What had the cost of survival been to her sanity?

  The child turned and flitted to the back of the room where there was an exit door. She was through the door and outside before they had even made a move to follow.

  She’s a fast little shit.

  When they emerged from the stockroom into the sunshine, she was thirty yards away, maneuvering through the scrub brush that surrounded the Circle K parking lot. She stopped, waiting for them to catch up.

  Moments later, they stood beside three rectangular mounds of rocks. Lengths of mesquite branches were stuck into the soil at the top of each of the pilings. Tattered pieces of fabric fluttered from the childish, makeshift tombstones.

  “Is one of these your daddy?”

  A nod of the dark head and a gesture to the rock piling set slightly apart from the other two. In the sunlight, Pablo could see how filthy the child truly was.

  “You dragged him out here all by yourself?”

  Yes.

  “Did he die of the plague?”

  A blank stare.

  “Was he sick right before he died?”

  Yes.

  “What about your mother? Was she sick too?”

  A blank stare.

  “How long have you been alone?”

  A shrug of the bony shoulders.

  “Who are the other two?”

  Another shrug.

  “Just people that came to the store?”

  Yes.

  “You’ve been living here for a long time?”

  Yes.

  “You’ve been eating all the stuff from the store?”

  A slow nod. Maddie squatted down. Listened to the whispered response.

  “Oh, I see. Yes, that’s very smart of you.” She stood, turning to her companions, her eyes glistening. “She’s been careful not to eat too much of the food because she knows it has to last a long time.” The words caught in her throat.

  Pablo took a deep breath, then kneeled down to the child’s level. He looked into the strange eyes and said, “Would you like to come with us?”

  ###

  Pablo’s Journal, Entry #385

  I am a horrible wretch of a man. How despicable that I resent the presence of a lonely woman and a helpless child because they intrude on my world with the love of my life. There is no shame in admitting one’s failings, especially when one has taken steps to rise above them. I know bringing them with us was the moral thing to do...certainly in the case of Jessie. But now I have to share my Maddie with others, and the burden of these strangers weighs on my thoughts and my heart. Maddie is attached to them both already. If something happens to either of them, it will be hard on her, and therefore hard on me. So my job is to keep everyone alive, safe, and as healthy as possible — no small task in a post-apocalyptic world.

  Amelia is a gem, I must admit. An intelligent woman whose keen eyes seem to bore right into my soul. Her midwifery skills add to her value within our little troop, as I guess we are now...no longer just a couple. I suspect she has a plethora of knowledge stored in that shrewd brain that will serve us well in future challenges.

  Jessie, however, distresses me somewhat, and on a level that I can’t identify. She barely speaks at all, even after the long day on the road when we all became better acquainted. When she does, she prefers to whisper in Maddie’s ear, as if talking too loudly might summon the monsters she fears — those same monsters which, when discussed in whispers with Maddie, provoked a visual examination of my shotgun. Jessie explained that they would skulk in the shadows of the store at night, and sometimes they would speak to her, saying terrible, scary things. Maddie asked her to reveal what they said, but she refused to elaborate. ‘If I say the same words the monsters say, it will make them stronger.’ And so she wouldn’t do it.

  At times I wonder if she might be mentally challenged, and at other times, I think there is an ancient, sagacious spirit residing behind those peculiar eyes. I’m conflicted about her, but it doesn’t matter. She is with us, and time will tell whether we ultimately regret the decision to stop at the Circle K today.

  At least we have plenty of M&Ms. For now...

  Chapter 32

  Texas

  “Oh, come to momma,” Dani cooed, as they pedaled up to the royal blue Ford Raptor with black pinstripes and thirty-two-inch Bridgestone all-terrain tires.

  “Now that’s a manly vehicle,” Fergus said. “Since you should have been born a man, I can see why you love it.”

  She shot him the finger, set her bicycle down on the highway shoulder, and approached the pickup, her K-bar in one hand and her shiny new revolver in the other. She glanced back to see Sam in ninja mode close behind. She marveled at how quickly her friend recovered from every injury he’d suffered the past year, including the beating from last night. His bruises were already in the yellow
phase. She shook her head, then focused on the task at hand, peering through the filmy driver’s side window. The door came open with a defiant screech.

  “The peeps must have bugged out. I think this will do nicely, providing the gas hasn’t gone bad and the battery isn’t dead.” She stepped onto the chrome running board and plopped down behind the wheel. The key was in the ignition.

  Fergus laughed. “You look like a ten-year old playing in her daddy’s pick-em-up truck.”

  It was true that she had to pull the seat up at least a foot to reach the pedal, but it was insanely kickass and if it started, she would leave a sacrifice at the altar of whatever heathen deity was in charge of combustion engines.

  “Cross your fingers, gentlemen!”

  She turned the key. Nothing happened.

  “Sonofabitch!”

  “Hold on there, senorita. Let me try something. Pop the hood.”

  Dani pulled the latch as the small man removed a can of Coke from his backpack. He had to crawl up onto the front bumper to get to the battery. “Crank it again!”

  The massive V8 roared to life, an angry dragon awakening from its nap.

  “Woo hoo! Let’s load up, boys.”

  Minutes later they were driving north on I35. It had been over a year since she had driven an automobile, and it felt wonderful to make such fast progress away from Isaiah.

  “My ass has died and gone to heaven,” Fergus said. Their bicycles and gear fit easily in the bed of the truck, so he had the entire back seat to himself.

  “We’ll still get to ride the bikes every now and then, right Dani?” Sam was already pining for his two-wheeled lover that had been relegated to inactive duty.

  “Of course. I’m sure there will be plenty of excursions we’ll need to make using them. For now, I’m just happy to be making good time. Kansas, here we come!”

  This far away from the Dallas-Fort Worth metroplex, the tangle of disabled and abandoned cars had begun to dwindle. The Oklahoma border couldn’t be more than another twenty miles, and Dani wanted to put as much distance between them and their adversaries as possible. She had no idea how Isaiah had found them. Back at the motel, she’d glimpsed the depths of the lunatic’s ego and knew that once he freed himself, he wouldn’t tuck tail and run back to Colleyville.