by J. P. Castle
“I was wondering about the same thing. What choice do they or we have? And there is no way our group can wake up to this mess right here,” said Bastian. “Here, let me dig for a while.” His shivers subsided after heaving the wet earth out of the hole for a few minutes.
DODI AND HANK laid in the weeds several yards away from the rusty old camper the heathen group had pulled into the park. They listened to the disturbing conversation taking place.
“Where’s Tank with the red-haired beauty he promised? He should’ve had her out of the tent by now and over here washin’ my laundry and me,” said the filthy middle-aged fellow, chewing dirt from beneath his fingernails.
“Yeah, I want some food, man. The ole bag earlier could’ve given me more than a stupid can of spaghetti. I should’ve robbed her while I was there. Now, I’m gonna have to hoof it back over there tomorrow, waste my energy flatlining her old ass, and take her entire stash,” spouted the heavily tattooed fellow with one gold tooth.
Both men laughed while trading shots out of a bottle of gin. The dwindling fire they sat by flickered enough for Dodi ‘n Hank to discern their greasy faces and matted hair.
A third man stepped out the camper door, falling into the dirt in a drunken stupor. The man’s buddies roared with laughter at his suffrage. He picked himself up and took a seat by the fire.
“Where’s the food Tank and Al promised. I’ll slit their throats if they come back empty-handed. What’s wrong with this fire?” said the drunken man.
“It won’t burn in the rain, stupid. Anyway, let’s murder one family each night, stuff them in their tent, take what we want, and stop going hungry,” said the gold-toothed man.
“I want the girl he described to me, the beauty. You know they’re loaded up with all kinds of yummy food over there. Nice warm camper, warm women, a SHOWER. We need to kill ‘em all, take the food, and the R.V. Leave this piece of junk here. Set it on fire. Hell, put Tank in it while it burns. I’m tired of his empty promises.”
“I’ve heard enough, this isn’t gonna go away on its own,” said Dodi. “They’re gonna hurt somebody. I’d guess they were blowing off their drunken mouths if their buddies didn’t come by our camp with knives. The dude I killed could’ve simply run off, but he came at me for blood.”
“I agree, take the one on the left, I’ll go right, then the drunk,” said Hank.
Dodi and Hank came around opposite sides of the camper. Dodi’s blade struck the first man in the back. He fell forward, nearly landing in the smoking coals. Hank attacked the gold-toothed man from behind. Before he thrust his knife into his lung, the man flipped him over into the mud.
Hank knocked the man off his feet, then wrapped his legs around his throat. While he choked the air out of the gold-toothed man, the drunken man hit Hank upside the head with a small board he’d plucked from the mud.
Dodi brought the drunken man to his knees and broke his neck. Hank grabbed the guy he’d choked with his legs, still gasping for air, and finished him the same. Dodi recovered his knife.
“Sorry, man, I couldn’t get to him fast enough before he hit you,” said Dodi.
“I’m alright, just a little blood,” said Hank, slightly winded. “Check the camper. Make sure no one’s passed out in there.”
Dodi opened the camper door, covering his nose as the horrible stench rolled out. Garbage littered the entire floor, accompanied by empty beer bottles filled with cigarette butts. Maggots ate rotten food remains beside a jug of curdled milk, sitting on the cracked countertop. Mold covered the walls, decaying from the leaks.
“Dodi, we got a problem. There’s a kid in here.”
“No, man, no, no way. Is he asleep?” said Hank.
“Yeah,” said Dodi.
“Text Bastian the number seven now,” said Hank, wiping blood from his brow.
“Okay,” said Dodi.
The number came through on Bastian’s wrist-unit. “They need us. We gotta go right now,” said Bastian, leaping out of the hole.
“These two aren’t buried yet, we just finished the hole,” said Ledger.
“We’ll have to come back.”
Bastian brought the shovel, and the pair raced toward the heathen camp. Bastian and Ledger startled when they arrived at the mini-massacre. A full-blown mess of bodies laid around a lifeless fire, distinguished by the rain. Both heaved much-needed oxygen into their lungs and noticed a trickle of blood streaming down the side of Hank’s face.
“Bastian, Dodi and I evaluated the situation, trust me when I say there were zero choices except to neutralize the threat before they killed us or someone else. They even discussed kidnapping Rani. Problem is, there’s a kid inside this junk camper asleep. We had no idea he was here—can’t leave him. And we’ve got an hour ‘n half to bury three more bodies. We cannot be seen over here tomorrow or any time.”
“Okay, I’ll take the kid to our camp. I’ll be back in a minute to help with these bodies. Here’s the shovel.”
Bastian went into the camper, nearly puking from the smell. He put his forearm over his nose. A little boy slept soundly in his sleeping bag on the floor. Bastian scooped the child out of the trash pile and trekked steadily back to camp. The child never woke.
Bastian entered the R.V., Troian rose up, along with Caleb, who felt her stir.
“Bastian, are you okay? What’s going on? Why are you all wet?” she whispered in a low tone, trying not to wake the others.
“I seriously need you not to ask questions right now. I promise, I’ll explain later. I need you to keep an eye on this child until I get back,” he said, laying the child down on the floor next to the fold-out couch. The little boy rolled over, but never fully woke.
“Okay, I will,” said Troian, getting up to clean the water off the floor.
“Do you need help, man?” said Caleb.
“Yes, watch our camp, stay here. I’ll be back before first light,” said Bastian, rushing out the door.
Caleb and Troian looked at each other, concerned. Caleb put his boots on and slid his gun into the back of his pants. “I’ll be right back,” he said.
Outside, the first thing he noticed, no one on guard duty. He wondered where Dodi and Hank were. Something had happened, but the rain made it hard to tell exactly what. He watched Bastian unzip Joaquin and Mateo’s tent and stick his head inside.
“Sorry to wake you guys, but I need your help right now,” said Bastian.
“Sure, what’s up?” said Joaquin, squinting.
“Come on, I’ll explain on the way,” said Bastian in an anxious tone. “I’m short on time.”
Joaquin and Mateo slipped their shoes on, then followed Bastian through the wet field behind their campsite. The storm raged all around. Bastian gave a hasty explanation along the way.
“We had an incident with the bad people, while everyone slept. There’s a grave dug over here with two bodies inside. I need you two to fill it in with your hands. Our only shovel is in use across the way.”
“You killed people? And you want us to bury bodies?” said Mateo.
“They tried to kill Hank, rob us, and kidnap Rani . . . so yes, unfortunately yes, they’re dead, the heathen group.”
“Why is the shovel across the way?” said Joaquin. “Or dare I even ask?”
“Best not to ask, but I told you I wouldn't lie, so . . . there’s another grave over there. If we don’t get this done before dawn, we’ll have even bigger problems. Oh my gosh, coyotes are at the grave.”
Bastian charged toward the teeth-baring hounds, flailing his arms in the air. The furry marauders absconded into the darkness, angry to leave their free meal behind.
“Does that coyote have a piece of the man’s shirt?” said Bastian.
“I’m not sure. I can hardly see,” said Mateo with rain dripping down his nose. “How many? How many more bodies across the way?”
“Three,” said Bastian. “I gotta go right now. I want you both to know I’m not dumping this on you. I dug this hole myself with Ledger, and I’m
going to dig another one now with Ledger, Hank, and Dodi.”
“Okay, man, okay . . . we got this. I was a little shook, that’s all. Don’t get woke up very often to bury two corpses in the middle of a raging storm—potentially during an apocalypse,” said Joaquin.
“Double check on that,” said Mateo.
“There’s a child in the R.V., too, from this ordeal. I have no idea what to do about that,” said Bastian.
“Okay, man, we’ll get it worked out calm down. Go. We got this,” said Mateo.
Bastian sped off in a mad dash, back to the other side of camp. Dodi, Hank, and Ledger had made substantial progress on the hole. They’d also carried the bodies a reasonable distance away from the junk camper.
“The boy is safe in the R.V. with Troian, and Caleb’s watching camp. Joaquin and Mateo are finishing the first hole, filling it in with their hands. Coyotes escaped with a piece of the man’s shirt, but I don’t guess it matters. We might actually make it out of here before dawn,” said Bastian, out of breath.
Thirty minutes later, three bodies laid six feet under. The four shoved the wet dirt into the grave as fast as they could. Mud clung to their clothes, boots, and skin.
“There’s a creek back over there. It’s cold, but we’re already soaking wet. We need to hit it with our clothes on before we head back to camp. Anything with bloodstains on it goes,” said Dodi.
Everyone agreed.
“Hopefully, this relentless rain washed away any blood left beside the vehicles back at camp,” said Ledger.
“Yeah, we’ll double-check that at first light,” said Dodi.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Kisses 'n Lies
BASTIAN, LEDGER, DODI, and Hank made it back into camp just as the sun peaked its morning warmth over the mountains. Their soaked clothing allowed the cold to penetrate into their bones, even deeper now that they’d stopped moving.
Their muscles ached, filled with lactic acid from the non-stop workout they’d endured the past several hours. All four shivered, sitting down at the picnic table, exhausted and hungry. Hank double-checked the spot where the fiasco started. Heavy rain had washed away any traces of blood.
Joaquin and Mateo’s wet clothes hung from a makeshift clothesline that the group strung up several days back. They lay fast asleep in their tent.
Ginger, an early riser, woke first. She stretched outside of her tent, pausing to notice the full picnic table. Something’s up, they’re never all awake at this hour. “Did you guys have a rough night?” she said, eyeballing their drenched shirts and pants. “Let me find you all some dry clothes ‘n food.”
By the time she returned, Mr. McCrady stirred about making coffee. He, too, knew there had been an incident. “What happened?” he said.
“Tank dropped by with friends,” said Bastian.
“Oh, geez. You mean tough man Tank?” said Mr. McCrady, not realizing the height to which things had escalated while he and the others slept.
“Yeah,” said Bastian.
“Where is he now?” said Mr. McCrady.
“He sleeps with the fishes,” said Ledger, rubbing his hair back.
“Don’t you mean the worms,” laughed Dodi.
“Yeah, worms,” said Ledger with a half-grin. “He and his friends sleep with the worms.”
“I never heard Martin bark,” said Mr. McCrady. “But he probably doesn’t know who to bark at just yet.”
“I don’t think Martin’s much of guard dog,” laughed Ledger.
“Well then,” said Mr. McCrady without further questioning, “I suppose the world’s a little safer now. I don’t even have to speculate on that. You all did what you had to do to keep everyone here safe. I’m gonna get Ollie ‘n me some breakfast.”
He knew the young men weren’t being callous by their comments. They’d seen a lot of death lately, faced more overwhelming challenges than most adults ever do in a lifetime, and had used good judgment during all of it.
They all, including Mr. McCrady, had morphed into the survival version of themselves since this crisis started. One word described the emotion Mr. McCrady felt for the young people he considered his family—proud.
“I’ve gotta go rest,” said Bastian, hanging his head. “Mr. McC, wake us up if you need to.”
Bastian and the others filled their stomachs, got out of the wet clothing, and laid down for several hours.
As Troian finished feeding baby Ezra, the little boy on the floor woke up and peeked around. “Where’s Tank?” he said, rubbing his sleepy eyes. For weeks now, the child had only known the abusive monster.
Troian wasn’t sure what to say. “Um, he told me they had to leave and for me to take care of you. My name is Troian.”
“Okay,” he said. “What’s for breakfast? Do we get any food today?”
“Yes, you get food every day with me,” said Troian.
“I don’t get food every day with Tank,” he said.
“What’s your name?” said Troian.
“I’m Liam. I’m five.”
“Liam, let’s get you fed and cleaned up.”
Eager to eat, Liam scarfed down breakfast, careful to keep the plate close. He’d grown used to the heathens taking his food if he didn’t eat it fast enough. When he’d finished, Troian placed him in the shower. She’d never seen a child this dirty. As the grime entered the drain, a cute little boy emerged. She surveyed his tiny body for injuries and noticed a few small scars on his arm and back.
“So, Liam, is Tank your dad?”
“No, my dad’s asleep. Him ‘n Tank got in a fight, and my dad fell over asleep.”
“Where’s your mom?”
“I never had one of those,” he said, playing with baby Ezra’s hand.
“So, you stay with Tank . . .”
“Yeah, for a little bit now, he leaves me by myself sometimes. I just wake up, and he’s gone,” said Liam.
“That must be scary,” said Troian. Her heart ached, imagining how life must’ve been with Tank, even for a brief period. “Liam, how would you like to stay here with me for a while, where there’s food, and no one will leave you by yourself?”
“Yep,” he said. “Tank’s mean sometimes.”
Somehow, I don’t think that’ll be an issue any longer. “Is that how you got those marks on your arms ‘n back?” said Troian.
“Tank had to teach me lessons. He said I needed to learn. He burnt me with cigarettes to make me tough.”
“Little Liam, you won’t learn that way here with me,” said Troian, fighting back tears.
Rani came into the room from the back and peered down at the new arrival. “Wow, you are a mover ‘n a shaker, aren’t you? One didn’t get the job done fast enough. Where’d he come from?” she scowled.
“Not in the mood right now, Rani. Before you startup, you’ll have to ask Bastian about it because I have no details. As usual, he’s going in a dead heat.”
Ollie stepped in to say good morning to his sister. “Humph, every time I go to bed and wake up, there are more people here,” said Ollie.
“You’re telling me, Ollie,” said Rani. “Maybe you can help keep an eye on him.”
Bastian slept a sizable portion of the afternoon, waking in time to eat dinner. Halfway through the meal, he started getting dizzy.
“You feel okay?” said Rani. “You’re sweating . . . your cheeks are flushed.”
“Yeah, I’m gonna go lie down,” he said, wiping his brow and holding his lower back. The area he’d hit fighting off the carjackers near Jay Slim’s house several weeks ago.
“I hope he’s not getting sick from being out in the rain all night,” said Rani. “We really don’t need that spreading through camp right now.”
“It’s hard to say,” said Troian.
The group sat around the fire after dinner, discussing things of the past and future, the same as they did every night. A few hours later, Rani went to check on Bastian. He lay in bed with sweat pouring profusely down his red face.
&n
bsp; Rani hollered outside. “Bryce, do you have the thermometer you used for Caleb when he was ill. Bastian’s face is hot to the touch?”
“Silverware drawer,” said Bryce.
Rani retrieved the thermometer and took Bastian’s temperature—103 degrees. She sat down beside him on the bed. “Bastian, can you hear me?”
“Troian, Troian,” he mumbled half asleep.
“No Bashy, it’s me, Rani,” she said, getting up for a cold cloth. Before placing the rag on his head, she peeked out the door and called Bryce.
Bryce went inside and forced Bastian to swallow a few aspirins. “What else can I do for you, big brother?”
Troian handed baby Ezra to Youlie. “Is he calling my name?” she said.
“Yeah, actually he is. And to be frank about it, I’d like to know why,” said Rani with her arms crossed.
“I honestly have no clue. Let me go see what he wants.” Troian pushed passed Rani and went to Bastian’s bedside. “Bastian, I’m here, do you need me to get you something?” she said, touching the back of her hand to his cheek.
Bastian reached for her hand and held it. Rani’s mouth fell open. “What the hell?”
“He’s delirious, Rani,” said Troian. “He thinks I’m you. Retake his temperature, he’s super hot.”
“It went up, 104 degrees now,” said Rani. “He may have gotten pneumonia out in the rain all night.”
Troian contemplated the idea. “Possibly a virus, not sure pneumonia would’ve manifested itself in a few hours. He’d have shown other signs recently. Maybe it’s his kidneys, he was holding his lower back earlier, though he could’ve hurt his back last night. But hurting it alone wouldn’t cause a fever this high,” said Troian.
“How did you find out about his kidneys . . .” Bryce stopped, unaware of Troian’s knowledge regarding Bastian’s kidney problems. She certainly knew Rani had been left out of that loop because Bastian didn’t want rumors at school. Bryce studied in her brain for a moment and gawked awkwardly at Troian.
“What are you talking about? What’s wrong with his kidneys?” said Rani with an expression of confusion on her face.
“What I meant was, maybe it’s a kidney infection,” said Troian to throw Rani off.
