“Why didn’t you just say that?” Mike asked, turning off his engine and startling Dave back to the conversation in the process.
“I thought I did,” Dave said, stepping up to Mike’s window and tapping on the glass. “Are you coming out?” he asked, using the radio.
“Not if it’s a trap,” Mike answered through the device without lowering his window.
Ben climbed out from the back seat of the Mercedes, carrying his rifle. Zack and Brigette got out of their car at the same time Joe and Pam did. Brigette was holding her rifle and slipped the sling over her shoulder and head as soon as she stood. She adjusted the strap for comfort and optimum gun placement, giving it a final tug before closing her door without latching it. Zack eased his door shut with one hand. His other was filled with the side-by-side, sawed-off twelve-gauge he’d taken from the dead guy in the car that hadn’t burst into flames.
“How are the boys doing?” Pam asked Brigette once they were all standing next to Mike’s raised window.
“The little shits are sleeping in the back seat,” Brigette said with a half grin.
“A lot of excitement for those two,” Pam replied.
“Not just them,” Dave said.
“What’s your plan, Dad?” Zack asked, looking toward the lot.
“We need at least three of us to stay here with the cars until we know it’s clear over there,” Dave began.
“Lynn and I will stay,” Mike said through the radio, obviously being able to clearly follow the conversation from inside of his car.
“Are you seriously going to stay in the car while we do this?” Dave asked into the walkie-talkie.
Mike shook his head and Dave saw his hand move toward the armrest. Rather than opening the door and getting out, Mike casually lowered his window.
“We’re not as young as the rest of you,” Mike said. “If it comes down to any commando moves or even just sprinting for cover, Lynn and I are better off here with the cars and keeping an eye on the boys.”
“You’re right,” Dave replied. “Will they be okay if they wake up and you or Zack aren’t here?” he asked Brigette.
“As long as we come back eventually, they should be fine,” she answered.
“Do you guys really think this is a good idea?” Lynn asked from the passenger seat.
“Nope. But we can’t keep driving around in that thing tonight,” Dave replied. “Not to mention all the way across the country. There’s going to be a lot of snow in the Rockies by the time we get there and driving across the plains isn’t going to be a picnic either. We have to find something else to drive, so we might as well start by looking here. Once we make sure everything’s cool, we’ll call you on the radio and you can bring the cars over. We swap all the shit out of our car and into the replacement, top off everyone’s fuel if we can and leave.”
“We should look for five-gallon cans, too,” Ben said.
“Good idea,” Dave replied. “Provided there’s a fuel tank down there and time allows. Baby,” he said, turning to Pam. “I think you should stay here too, and before you argue with me, hear me out. One, you can barely shoot a gun. Two, you’re not the stealthiest person I’ve ever seen,” he adds, drawing a chuckle from their three sons.
“That’s putting it mildly,” Joe said.
“Shut up, Joe. You’re staying here with her,” Dave tells him.
“What? Why?” Joe asked.
“Partly because you’re every bit as graceful as your mom, and I’ve seen you shoot. But mostly because I want half of us to stay here, watch our backs and protect the shit we do have,” Dave answered.
“Well, when you put it like that,” Joe conceded.
“We only have three radios, so we’ll stay in pairs,” Dave went on. “We’ll leave the one Mike has, here with those of us watching the cars. If you see any zombies, or anyone else sneaking around over there, call on the radio. Zack and Brigette are going to head to the left side of the lot and Ben and I will go right. Keep low. The brush between here and there should give us enough cover.”
“If they’re not watching us now,” Ben added.
“Thanks for that, son,” Dave replied, having not wanted to consider that possibility. He stared at him for a second longer, trying to figure out if he was attempting to be helpful, or just snarky. Deciding it was too close to tell, he continued. “We wait and watch. Keep your eyes open for anyone moving around or hiding.”
“And for tripwires,” Brigette said.
“Shit! Yes! Definitely, tripwires,” Dave agreed.
“Good one, babe,” Zack said, offering his wife a fist bump which she returned.
“While we’re looking around,” Dave continues. “Keep your eyes open for a few good vehicles. Pick out two or three, in case we can’t find all the keys. We need something built to hold up, preferably four-wheel drive with storage room. Any questions?”
“Do you have a color preference?” Ben asked.
“No. Why?” Dave replied, deciding his son was just being a dick for some reason.
“Because someone in the lot just fired up a green, Jeep 4x4 and they’re heading our way,” he answers.
Everyone’s head, including Mike’s and Lynn’s, turned in the direction Ben was pointing. Sure enough, a set of headlights were easing out from the dark edge of the rental lot and driving up the road toward the offramp. When it reached the turn festooned with Do Not Enter signs, it stopped momentarily. Then the driver turned on the left signal, ignored the warning signs and turned onto the offramp. Headlights shone brightly on them as they stood on the shoulder next to the Mercedes. Another set of lights attached to a bar above the cab flared to life, lighting up the area like mid-day.
“Fuck! Shit! Son of a bitch!” Dave spouted, realizing too late there was no place to hide and little to defend themselves with. He and Joe hadn’t even bothered to bring their guns with them. The only ones in their group that were armed were Zach, Brigette, and Ben, and all of them were caught in the Jeep’s lighting array. Brigette started to move when the Jeep rolled to a stop some twenty feet from the front of Zack’s car. She was going to protect her boys, who were apparently still sleeping.
“Don’t do it,” Dave cautioned, trying not to move his lips, in case whoever was in the Jeep could read lips. “They don’t know they’re in the car.” This stopped her forward movement but Brigette tightened her grip on the rifle.
The driver, still invisible behind the blinding lights, turned his engine off but remained behind the wheel, probably studying them and looking for weapons. They all stood motionless without saying a word. The only noise to be heard was the ticking sound of cooling engine metal. They saw the driver’s door open wide as the hinges popped. A figure slipped out of the Jeep, but his face was still hidden in the shadows.
“You folks having some car trouble?” a voice asked. It was thick with an upper, east coast accent, so the word car sounded like it was missing the last letter. If Dave had to guess from the voice, he’d say the guy was somewhere between his and Mike’s age, probably closer to the latter.
“No. Just taking a break from driving and thought we’d stop under the lights over there to make some sandwiches,” Dave answered, taking a cautious step forward and moving his hand to block some of the intense lights from his view.
“That’s a good one, young fella,” the voice said around a laugh that sounded more like a cough. “But I’d appreciate it if you’d all stay put until we can decide which direction you all are leaning. You there! Inside the fancy car. Why don’t you two ease out of there and join the rest of us,” the shadow man said. “Just trying to be polite is all,” the man said when Mike and Lynn didn’t move. “But it wasn’t the kind of invitation you get to decline,” he added, punctuating his words with the sound of a pump-action shotgun chambering a round.
“Mike. Get out of the car,” Dave said.
When the two front doors of the Mercedes cracked open, the man stepped from behind his door, his silhouette leveling the
gun in their direction and said, “Empty hands out first, if you please.”
Mike and Lynn did as they were told, lifting their hands in the air but didn’t step from behind their open doors.
“Come on around here into the light where we can get a good look at you,” the man said. “The rest of you stay where you are and lift your hands. We wouldn’t want to end this meeting on a sour note because of some misunderstanding.”
“You keep saying that,” Dave replied as his in-laws came over to stand with the others, their hands empty.
“Keep saying what, young fella?” the man asked.
“You’ve said we a few times, but I only see you here,” Dave answered.
“What’s your name, young fella? If we’re going to stand here and chat for a while, might as well know who I’m speaking to.”
“My name’s Dave. Dave Richter. And this is my family. We’re just trying to get across the country without any trouble,” he replied.
“A pleasure to meet you, Dave. And the rest of your family. My name’s Carl Bertram but you don’t have to call me Mr. Bertram. Carl will do just fine. My sons Jacob and Carl Junior are over there somewhere,” Carl said, pointing the shotgun toward the scrub between them and the rental lot. “He prefers being called CJ and his brother…” Carl pauses to cough out another chuckle. “He’s the younger and more practical of the two, and he just goes by Jacob. Wave to the nice folks, boys. Let them know you’re out there.”
“Shit,” Ben hissed as a green laser dot appeared on his chest and another lit up on Brigette’s.
“Don’t take that as a threat now Dave,” Carl said. “So far, it’s been a pleasure to meet you. Let’s not spoil it. We’re just being cautious is all. Can’t be too careful, these days. Not with everything happening so all of a sudden. Seen people do some peculiar things in the last couple days and I don’t want to risk me or my sons getting hurt.”
“Same goes for me and my family,” Dave replied.
“Then you won’t mind if we ask you all to gently place your guns on the ground. For safety’s sake,” Carl said.
Without further prompting, Ben and Brigette placed their rifles on the ground. Zack tried to slip the shortened double-barrel behind his leg, hoping Carl and presumably his sons hadn’t seen it.
“That goes for you too, Sonny Jim,” Carl said, letting him know he had.
Zack slowly swung the gun to the front of him, keeping the barrel pointed to the ground. He thumbed the breaking lever and opened the shotgun at the hinge. Plucking the two shells from the receivers, he slipped them into his shirt pocket and dropped the gun to the dirt.
“What’s your name, son,” Carl asked him.
“It’s Zack,” Dave answered for him.
“Do you go by Zack or Zachary?” Carl asked. “And let him answer for himself,” he added for Dave’s benefit.
“Just Zack,” he answered.
“Thank you, Zack. Now I appreciate your enthusiasm, son. But how’d you feel about tossing those shells into the bushes over there?” Carl asked, motioning to the brush on the other side of the shoulder.
“I’d rather not waste them,” Zack replied honestly.
“I guess that’d be okay,” Carl said, turning his attention back to Dave. “There now. Isn’t this better? None of the rest of you have the same kind of enthusiasm your son Zack here has. Do they Dave? What about the other young fella next to you? The one that was carrying the other rifle. He looks like he could have the same sort of, tendencies.”
“Ben,” Dave snapped quietly without turning around.
“What?” Ben whispered.
“Give it up,” Dave replied.
Keeping one hand in the air, Ben slowly and grudgingly, reached to the small of his back with the other. He removed the pistol he’d tucked there before getting out of the car. Holding it by the grip with his thumb and forefinger, he lifted it for Carl and his sons to see. The green dot on his chest wavered, like whoever was holding the rifle attached to it was tightening the grip and repositioning their aim. The one on Brigette did the same. Ben carefully and slowly released the cylinder, dumping the rounds into his hand and stuffing them into his pants pocket, before bending to place it on the ground.
“What about the girl?” Carl asked, referring to Brigette. She shook her head. “I trust the one wrapped in the blanket isn’t caring any surprises,” Carl said.
Joe also shook his head and added, “Just cold.”
“All the same,” Carl said with a snort of amusement. “I’d feel a lot better if you’d let it drop and give us a spin to make sure. Like I said. Can’t be too careful, these days.” Joe did as he was instructed before Carl continued. “There now. Isn’t this more, neighborly?”
“Since we’re all friends and everything, do you think you could turn off the lights?” Dave asked, squinting through the glare.
“Of course!” Carl said like he hadn’t thought of it sooner. He leaned to his right, reaching for the switch controlling the off-road lights and paused. “My wife, the boys’ mother, my third cousin once removed, God rest her soul, always said I was a good judge of character. Please don’t be disrespectful and prove her wrong,” he said.
Carl killed the brilliant glare of the bulbs before closing his door and stepping to the front of the 4x4 with the parking lights still glowing. They cast a hue on the road and across the family’s faces, giving a jaundiced appearance to their skin.
They shake hands. “Where you from, young fella?” Carl asked while Dave attempted to blink away the yellow and purple orbs superimposed over his vision.
Wiping the perspiration from his palm onto his hip, Dave stepped forward and extended his open hand to Carl. He took it in a firm grip and pumped it three times. Being this close and no longer being blinded, Dave decided his guess about the man’s age had been a little off. Carl was most likely older than Mike, if the deep lines etched in the man’s face were an indication. Thick crow’s feet spread from the outer corners of his eyes, giving the impression he’d spent a lot of time smiling and the lines around his mouth supported this conclusion. Dave suspected those were from a combination of a few things. Spending years growing up in the harsh New England winters, given his heavy accent and Dave hoped, a jovial and good-natured disposition, he also wondered if Carl had spent a good part of his life as a farmer based on the faded bib overalls he was wearing. But the far northeastern states weren’t especially known for their farming. Or for a love of their fellow man and kindness to strangers, but Dave tried not to dwell on those characteristics.
“The pleasure’s all mine,” Carl said without prompting. He released Dave’s hand and returned his to the pump-grip on the shotgun he was still holding. He saw Dave follow his hand with his eyes and shrugged. “Like I said, can’t be too careful. Now before we made our introductions and became such close friends, I asked if you were having some car trouble,” he said, gesturing to the battered and broken Rogue.
“Maybe some,” Dave replied.
“Got a lot of stuff back there,” Carl said, jerking his thumb in the direction of the rental. “But I don’t know if we can do anything to fix it. You might as well follow me back over, and we’ll see what we can do.”
With no further words, Carl lowered his gun and stepped past Dave and around his door. He slid behind the wheel of the 4x4, closed the door hard and leaned his head out the open window.
“You’re not going to get more of an invitation than the one I’ve given. If you want to stay here, that’s fine. But don’t come over there unannounced if you change your mind later. Can’t—”
“Be too careful,” Dave interrupted to finish Carl’s sentence.
“Right you are, young fella,” Carl said, touching the tip of his nose with his index finger. “Follow me if you’re gonna,” he added before starting the Jeep and only switching on the headlights rather than the entire array.
The green dots on Ben and Brigette disappeared and they all watched as Carl reversed up the offramp. B
acking past the stop sign and into the intersection, he flashed his lights once and began rolling forward toward the rental lot.
“What just happened?” Pam asked Dave.
“He didn’t even take our guns,” Ben said, quickly picking up his pistol and reloading the cylinder. Brigette already had her rifle re-slung and Zack was snapping the double-barrel closed, with the shells back in their homes.
“I guess we follow him,” Dave said, looking around to check for objections.
“What about CJ and his brother?” Ben asked, wiping the dust from his rifle.
“What about them?” Joe asked.
The F*cked Series (Book 3): Mean Page 6
