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Post by ColcordMama on May 17, 2012 20:41:33 GMT -7
30. Nick woke up lying on a canvas-and-wood Army cot, draped with an olive drab blanket, under the glare of lights in a huge, echoing room. When he tried to lift his head to look around he found that he could only get it a couple of inches off the pillow. From what he could see, he was in some sort of gymnasium among hundreds of other people lying on similar cots. He ached all over and his mouth was dry and cottony, and it didn't seem like he could use his arms and legs. When he tried to move them, they didn't respond. Or maybe he was just too tired. He let his head fall back with a plop. The last thing he saw before he slipped into unconsciousness was the IV stand beside his cot, hung with several bags of clear fluid, clear tubes leading away from the stand to his bed and others around him.
The next time he opened his eyes he saw someone bending over him, holding his head up, wiping his face with a damp cloth. It felt good, cool and wet, and he tried to stick his tongue out to lick the cloth.
"Are you thirsty?" a voice asked, and he grunted in reply. "Just wait a minute and I'll bring you some broth," a voice said from behind a white gauze mask. It was hard to tell if his attendant was a man or woman, since the mask covered so much of the face and a green scrub hat covered the hair, but when he or she turned away briefly, Nick could see a ponytail hanging down. Ah, a woman. Then blackness rushed over him and pulled him down under its surface again.
Now his eyes were opened again and it seemed to be darker. The square skylights in the ceiling were black. It was night. The forms around him were shrouded in dark khaki blankets, but there was enough light from a few strip fluorescents in the ceiling to see that nobody was standing or walking around. He didn't ache so bad, and he was able to lift his head and look across the room before letting it fall to the pillow again. Where was he? Some sort of makeshift hospital? He vaguely remembered someone earlier washing his face. His stomach rumbled and he was hungry. How long had it been since he had eaten? He couldn't remember. A man on the cot next to him was having trouble breathing; phlegm was rattling wetly in his lungs, and he coughed as he slept. A few beds away someone else groaned and mumbled something in his sleep, then was quiet. How long had he been here? What was his status? He didn't think he was dying because he felt better than he did the last time he woke up, but he still didn't feel normal. Maybe he should get up and go to the bathroom. Nick tried to brace his arms against the heavy wooden edges of the cot to rise but found that he didn't have the strength, and then the plastic tubing in his arm tugged at the taped-in needle and he knew he couldn't go anywhere as long as he was connected to the IV. But how was he supposed to..? He fumbled with the blanket with his free arm and discovered the other tube, the one that led to the bag hung from the side of his cot. So that was how. He felt a rush of relief. He wouldn't have to worry about that. Someone was taking care of him. He could just let go and rest, and with that thought, in spite of his hunger, he went back to sleep.
An hour later the ponytailed volunteer in scrubs, gloves and mask did his rounds, walking up and down the aisles of cots, briefly checking each patient for life signs. At some cots he pulled the blanket up and over a head, and signalled with his flashlight to two men standing off to the side of the gymnasium. Roughly sixty percent of his group would be taken out tonight, if tonight was like the other nights this week. This was the cusp group, those for whom nothing more could be practicably done other than basic caregiving. Some had strong constitutions and would recover on their own; the rest would slip from sleep into death without a struggle and their cot would be given to the next occupant, who would hover between life and eternity while their body battled the insidious intruders multiplying in their bloodstream. The best care for this group, the cusp group, was time, fluids and rest.
Nick slept deeply, dreamlessly, on his canvas cot, the clear IV fluid dripping into his body while urine dripped slowly into the bag dangling from the bed frame. The two men came about four o'clock in the morning and took away the man next to him, then came back with another man half an hour later. This quiet undulation of humanity was repeated all across the floor of the high school gym, the dead going, the almost-dead replacing them. The room echoed with the sounds of breathing, coughing, shuffling, gurgling; it smelled of alcohol and sweat and cheap pine disinfectant. Only time would tell who would walk out of this departure lounge for DeathAir and who would be carried.
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Post by ColcordMama on May 17, 2012 20:44:03 GMT -7
31. Lucy was asleep on the rug, snoring softly, wetly through her open mouth. A log in the fireplace burned through and cracked in half and part of it fell to one side of the blaze. Bonnie was tense and happy at the same time. With Bob's declaration of love at the back door and his kiss here, in front of the fire, they had stepped into a new relationship, but she wasn't ready to take it to the next level, and she didn't know, and wouldn't ask, whether he felt the same. It was awkward and strange but at the same time exciting to be poised on this threshold with him. Her experiences with the opposite sex were limited to the ineffective gropings of high school dates, none of which ever came to anything, and Nick. If the man sitting next to her now were Nick, she knew from bitter experience he would be all over her by now, panting and grabbing whether she agreed or not, with no regard for her feelings in the matter, his sole aim to satisfy himself. She didn't know if Bob wold suddenly lunge at her, and if he did, what she would be able to do to fend him off. She couldn't just come right out and bring up the subject. She wouldn't do that. To do so would spoil this quiet time of sitting, watching the fire, speaking in a whisper so as not to wake the sleeping child. They had talked quietly for an hour about nothing really, and it had been wonderful, such a time of peace and safety, but under the circumstances she was still tense.
He could feel the tenseness in the shoulder under his cradling hand, so he kept the topics of conversation light. He too knew that they were both dancing and he wished he knew a way to ease her fears without actually coming right out and saying it, but he didn't. Instead he deliberately calmed himself, relaxed his posture and became as non-threatening as he could. Then it was finally late enough, and he was tired enough, that he could allow himself to yawn hugely, stretching his arms and legs.
"Time for bed," he said in a low voice, hugging her quickly and patting her on the shoulder. He got off the couch. "Would you like me to carry Lucy?" She had jumped just the slightest when he hugged her. He knew how she felt and he wasn't going to make this hard for her. ""I'll carry her upstairs for you, then I'll come back and double check all the doors and windows. Go on to bed and I'll see you in the morning, okay?"
Her weak smile of relief told him he had done the right thing. "Thank you, yes. I'm really tired and she is getting to be a load to get up those stairs," she whispered back. "How about pancakes tomorrow?"
"Pancakes sound great," he replied as he carefully bent and carefully slid his hands under the sleeping child and hoisted her into his arms. "Go on up ahead of me and turn down the covers."
Upstairs, he carefully deposited the still-sleeping girl on the bed, smiled at Bonnie on his way out of the bedroom and closed the door behind himself, then he trotted back downstairs and made his rounds, checking each door, each window, to make sure all was secure. He set the outside lights to automatic and turned out the lights on the first floor, then got a bottle of soda from the fridge and went to stand in the darkened family room, at the big window that looked out across the back yard toward the boat house and lake. He twisted off the cap and stood there, taking thoughtful pulls on the bottle, thinking. It was hunting time. Tomorrow was the day. He had to prepare.
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Post by ColcordMama on May 17, 2012 20:45:43 GMT -7
32.
Bob took off early that morning before she woke up. She came downstairs to find a note from him on the counter. "Sorry about the pancakes, have something important to do and will be back this afternoon. Keep the doors locked and stay inside." To keep herself occupied she went through the storeroom, sorting through the boxes and piles there to see if she could find anything useful, and in a little while, she did. In a box back under a shelf she found a breadmaker, an almost new one, plus a booklet of recipes. She had always wanted to learn how to make bread, so while Lucy played in a patch of sunlight on the floor, Bonnie settled herself on the couch and read the booklet cover to cover. It sounded easy. She got out the jar of yeast Bob got at the little store and found flour stored in the freezer, so she plugged in the machine. programmed the clock so it wouldn't blink 12:00 constantly, and started a loaf of bread. Bob would be so surprised when he came home! He had mentioned several times how much he missed bread.
While the breadmaker mixed the dough, making a mechanical yum-yum-yum sound, she decided she might as well go all the way and make a big pot of soup. She found a boxed mix for vegetable soup in the pantry and it wasn't long before the whole house smelled like yeast and simmering minestrone. Bonnie felt perfectly content, the apartment and her job pushed to the back of her brain. This was what she wanted. This was how life should be, her baby gurgling and cooing happily on a pretty rug, food cooking, the man of the house out doing something important for the family. She wondered what mysterious thing it was Bob felt was so critical, but she wasn't troubled. She trusted him to know what to do and when. He was in charge and she was happy to have it that way.
Out in the woods, Bob lay behind a fallen log, motionless, staring through the pine boughs that hung low to the ground on the other side of the log. He had his rifle in both hands, held crosswise to his body behind the log. He could see movement ahead about forty feet across a small clearing, where a jumble of large boulders met the edge of the forest. One of the boulders was almost five feet tall and wide, and something was behind it. He could hear movement in the dried leaves and sticks that covered the ground everywhere. He had caught a flash of something dark back there, shifting between the rocks. His hand crept silently down the side of his hunting vest, to the elastic bands that held cartridges. Very quietly, he loaded three of them into the rifle. Three would be enough. He waited for a gust of wind to rattle the branches of the trees and send dried leaves scattering across the ground; under the cover of that noise he quickly got to his feet and positioned himself sideways behind the trunk of a large tree. There was a tang in the air. It would be full-blown winter soon. He couldn't fail now. This was critical. He slowly lifted the rifle into position and gradually shifted it inch by inch until it pointed in the right direction. There was a crunching noise as his prey stepped out from behind the boulder into plain view, completely unaware of the danger. Bob inhaled slowly, held his breath, and pulled the trigger.
It was almost five o'clock when she heard his boots stamping on the wooden porch. He was still kicking the dirt off them when she threw open the door and grinned at him.
"I have a big surprise for you," she announced happily, "come inside and see!"
He held up a hand to stop her from hugging him, and it was then she saw the blood on his clothes and hands. "Wait, okay?" he said, not smiling back. "I gotta get cleaned up before I come in. Take this, please," and he held a rifle out to her. He walked over to the hose bib and turned it on just as if nothing had happened, and as he washed the blood off his hands and boots and big knife he pulled from a belt sheath, all she could do was take the rifle inside and prop it against the wall. Now she had smears of blood on her hands, too. She saw that her hands were trembling. All of a sudden she didn't care about the beautiful golden loaf of bread and pot of soup, all she wanted was to be away from the blood and the gun, somewhere else, with Lucy.
He turned his head and saw her looking at the bloody water running off his knife. "It's okay, honey, it's okay," he said, "you won't even have to see it if you don't want to. It's hung in the shed, with the door closed."
Bob lifted his head and sniffed appreciatively. "What's that I smell? What smells so good in there?" He turned back to her. "What's wrong?"
"What are you talking about?" Bonnie finally managed to get out.
"The deer I shot. I hung it in the shed. We can have fresh venison, and I'll show you how to make jerky. What are you talking about? What were you going to show me?" He wiped the wet knife on his pant leg and stuck it back in the sheath at his waist.
"Oh!" Now relief washed over her like a splash of cold water. A deer! He had shot a deer! "I made bread. That's what you smell. That and a pot of minestrone soup, too." Her stomach unclenched. "I'm sorry...I didn't know you were going to..."
"Sorry?" Bob retorted good-naturedly, "why sorry? This is wonderful! You're wonderful! I'm starving! Can we eat? I haven't had much of anything all day except for some crackers and Vienna sausages and coffee." He grabbed her around the waist with both arms and swung her in a circle while she laughed.
Over soup and fresh hunks of bread, he told her how he was going to nail the deerskin to the side of the shed. He offered to take her out and show her the carcass but she declined. She wasn't afraid to see it, but she couldn't leave Lucy alone in the house and she thought the little girl might be frightened by the sight, so she passed on the chance. After dinner, Bob went to the shed and did some butchering and brought some parts inside to package and freeze. Tomorrow they would have loin chops, but most of the meat would have to hang for a while, or, as he said, it wouldn't set well with them. That suited her just fine, she thought, as she wrapped up the liver and heart in white freezer paper and taped them closed.
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Post by ColcordMama on May 17, 2012 20:47:06 GMT -7
33. Nick lay on the cot for seven days. All around him patients came and went, but he remained. On the seventh day he found the strength to raise himself on his elbows and look around. It was night again, and two men were removing a sheet-swathed body from the cot on his right. They grunted quietly with the effort. As the man closest to Nick bent over, a pen dropped from his breast pocket and clattered on the hardwood floor.
"Need a hand?" Nick croaked out.
The attendant stiffened as he reached for the pen and he turned around to look at Nick. "What? What did..?"
"Is that guy heavy? Do you need a hand?" Nick replied. Now he realized his voice was weaker than normal and the muscles of his arms were shaking. Maybe he wouldn't be able to help them lift the guy after all. He lay back down, but by then both attendants were bending over him, one checking his pulse and the other man making some sort of signal with a flashlight. In just a minute or two a third man joined them, and this one wore a white lab coat with a stethoscope draped around his neck. This man--Nick assumed he was the doctor--used the flashlight to read some papers he picked up from somewhere down by Nick's feet.
"How am I, Doc?" Nick asked in his rusty voice, " Can I have something to eat?"
Fifteen minutes later Nick was lying in a different cot on the edge of the rectangular sea of cots, just under a basketball net. He was propped up on three pillows and one of the green-clad attendants was spooning soup into his mouth, warm chicken noodle soup, and Nick had never tasted anything so good in his entire life.
Three and a half months into the pandemic, the wave of cases slowed dramatically. This enabled medical and government officials a much-needed respite, a chance to regoup, but it was just the end of the first phase, not the end of the crisis. The virus wasn't finished yet, not by a long shot.
At the lodge in the woods, Lucy took her official first steps, hanging onto the sides of the coffee table in front of the fireplace. She had only been crawling a short while, but intelligent, impatient and eager to get on with her life, she walked from the table across three feet of floor and into Bob's outstretched arms. Bonnie cried with happiness. Even in this awful time of disease and death, life went on. And life was good for them. They ate their fill of venison, then the two of them made jerky out of the meat that wouldn't fit into the chest freezer. Lucy toddled happily all around the first floor of the place, her little hand and nose prints decorating the bottom of the tall floor-to-ceiling windows in the living room.
Finally, Bob and Bonnie had to admit the time had come to make another try at a trip to Centerville. There was too much they needed from their apartments if they were going to stay here, and they had to try to restock if they could, if any stores were still open. They left early in the morning one day. Amazingly, the roadblocks were gone. The roads were almost deserted, and once they reached Centerville, very few people were out and about. The few they saw seemed to move with desperate purpose, hurrying along clutching packages or driving too fast with wide, fearful eyes. Trash littered the roads and blew in the breeze. An eerie silence seemed to have fallen over everything, and it gave them goosebumps The radio stations, the two they could find still broadcasting, played songs one right after another without an announcer coming on in between. Finally, at the hour, they caught a news broadcast on one of the stations. The man's voice was devoid of the usual good-humored banter he usually displayed.
"..in your homes for the time being, unless it's an emergency as defined by the bulletin you should have received in the mail last week. If you didn't get a bulletin, stay tuned and we will provide that information. To repeat, deaths from the flu appear to be down, but this in no way means that the crisis is over. Take all necessary precautions, stay off the phone, stay inside and away from any gathering of people to avoid contracting the disease. All schools are closed, US mail delivery has been changed to three days a week--Monday, Wednesday and Friday--and the government is strongly urging the cancellation of any meetings, funeral services, anything that brings people together. Stay in your homes. As a further precaution, the CDC has issues a bulletin warning against touching any dead birds, especially waterfowl such as ducks and geese."
The announcer paused and the sound of shuffling papers could be hear. "I have here the bulletin that was sent out last week, which everybody should have received already. These are the emergencies for which you can leave your home." He coughed and then continued, "Medical, to transport a patient. Medical, to obtainprescriptions. Household, to obtain food and/or water. Employment, only for critical service employees to travel to and from work and in the performance of their jobs. Critical services are classified as law enforcement and medical personnel, public utility key employees, certain support providers such as grocery store employees, media, military and related personnel, and mortuary service employees. Anyone on the street is subject to being stopped and questioned by authorities and detained indefinitely in quarantine if found in violation." He coughed again, longer and harder. "Now back to the music," he finally choked out, and the radio burst forth with a cheerful Broadway tune.
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Post by ColcordMama on May 17, 2012 20:48:49 GMT -7
34.
"Damn, I'm hungry! My stomach thinks my throat's cut!" Red gripped the steering wheel and glanced in the rear view mirror, but the road was clear behind him. He still couldn't understand why there was no traffic on the road, why the roadblock leading to Centerville was dismantled.
"Where we goin', Red?" Peewee whined. "Whose house first?"
"Yours," Red snapped, and mentally added, "to dump you off."
Horse yawned and scratched his ribs. He sat against the window, with Peewee in the middle seat. "Hey, ya think there's any restaurants open now?"
Red started to slow for the red light at an intersection, but there were no cars on the road and he was tired and hungry and in no mood to wait on a light, so he put his foot down and sped on through. "Restaurants? What's it look like to you?" Why was he surrounded by idiots? "There's nobody out on the street! Nobody to be goin' out to eat!" He swept his right hand in an arc to make his point, and Peewee shrank back against the seat to avoid getting smacked.
And just why was the town so empty of people? Where was everybody? Had something happened? A long time ago Red had seen a ovie about some disaster or other, and a scene came back to him, long deserted streets with stuff, papers and leaves and garbage, blowing down the empty stretches. He couldn't remember the rest of the plot, was it the one about the brain-eating zombies? Nuclear war? He'd been young and impressionable then, sitting on the floor of his grandmother's living room in front of the tv set, but the movie had scared the crap out of him, and he'd had nightmares for a long time after that. He'd dream that he woke up to find everybody gone, nobody left but him, and some nameless faceless horror was after him. Even now he felt a hole in the pit of his stomach when he thought of it. And now here it was, real. Everybody was gone, the streets were deserted, trash was collecting in the gutters, and the houses they drove past looked empty. Goosebumps rippled up his back and across his scalp and he shuddered, his belly muscles quivering.
Peewee's house looked the same as all the other old houses on his street, closed up and quiet, no sign of life. No dogs running around from the back yard to bark through the chain link fence at them. Nobody looking out the window to see who was here. As Horse got out of the pickup so Peewee could get out, Red happened to catch the twitch of a curtain in one of the houses across the street. Good. So there were some people around. They hadn't all be eaten by zombies. But the whole neighborhood still creeped him out, and as soon as Peewee was out of the truck and Horse back in and the door slammed, Red gave it the gas and pulled away from the curb without even thinking about Peewee's gear stowed in the back of the truck.
Nick was what one of the men in green scrubs called "ambulatory" when he decided to split. They had taken the IV needle out of his arm a couple of days before, and he had been wandering around the place when he felt up to it. He found a big cardboard box of clothes in a corner of the gymnasium on one of his trips to the john, so he snagged a Dallas Cowboys tee shirt and a pair of boxers, and sweat pants that looked like they would fit him. He changed into them in a stall, leaving his sweat-stained hospital gown on the dirty floor beside the toilet. The only shoes he could find were rubber flip-flops, and those were abandoned in a hall beside a water fountian. He had tried to find out about his wallet and clothes but nobody knew anything, so that was that. Probably lost his car, too. He couldn't remember where he'd left it and didn't have the keys anymore, so it didn't matter. What did matter was that he was alive. Weak and shaky, but alive. He just shoved a door open, walked out of thegymnasium and down the sidewalk to the street, and nobody said anything or tried to stop him. Down by the curb an ambulance was dropping off someone on a stretcher. Two guys from the ambulance were wheeling it in. He sat there on a concrete planter until they came walking back down the sidewalk, then he stood up.
"Hey, where ya goin', buddy?" he asked the closest one.
"Back down to central dispatch," the man replied, glancing at his watch.
"Can I get a lift from you? I've lost my car," Nick explained, and when the man shrugged and pointed at the open back of the ambulance, he lost no time scrambling inside.
Thus it was a few minutes later that Nick happened to be walking down a sidewalk on his way back to his girlfriend's apartment, when Red drove past, slammed on the brakes and backed up and Horse yelled out the pickup window, "Hey, you need a ride, fella?"
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Post by ColcordMama on May 17, 2012 20:50:19 GMT -7
35.
It was the first cold beer Nick had had in what, three weeks? A month? He couldn't remember when things had felt so normal, sitting there in Red's living room nursing a cold longneck, a bag of tortilla chips open on the coffee table in front of him. He had hit it off immediately with Red and the other guy...what was his name? Hank? No. Horse. That was it. Strange name for a guy. He ate some more chips, but they weren't enough now and his stomach growled. Red, lounging in the recliner next to the couch, turned to look at him.
"You hungry?" he said, raising his eyebrows. "Want a sandwich?"
"Oh man yeah, if it's no trouble," Nick replied, rubbing his belly. "Been a while since I had anything. You still got bread?"
Red got up and started for the kitchen. "Yeah, I have some bread in the freezer. My old lady kept the freezer pretty full. She sure did love to spend money!"
Horse, sitting on the other end of the couch, laughed and sucked at his beer bottle. It was an ugly laugh, and he glanced at Red's retreating back knowingly. He caught Nick watching him and laughed again. "Yeah, she threw it away with both hands, Louella did. That was one broad!" He finished off his beer, sat the empty on the coffee table and grabbed a couple of chips.
"You want a sandwich, Horse?" Red called from the kitchen. A cupboard opened and closed in there and something rattled like silverware being pushed around in a drawer.
"Yeah sure, Red." Horse shouted back, then he lowered his voice to a whisper and turned to Nick. "You shoulda seen her, Louella. That was one broad!" He made an hourglass shape in the air with his hands, shoved the chips into his mouth and wiped the salt off his hands onto his jeans.
"Oh yeah?" Nick said, interested. "So where is she now?"
There was a glint in Horse's eyes when he leaned closer to Nick. His breath was hot and fetid, as though he hadn't brushed his teeth in a week or so. "She's around. She left him, you know what I mean?" When he grinned he lifted his upper lip like a dog, and it wasn't pretty.
A minute later Red came back with a paper plate of sandwiches. He sat it on the coffee table and they all dug in.
"Man oh man, even peanut butter tastes good," Red said around a mouthful, and all Nick could do was nod in agreement as he packed his mouth full.
"I usedta eat mustard sandwiches when I was a kid," Horse volunteered. He made a lot of noise when he chewed, and more than once Nick saw Red glance in Horse's direction disgustedly, but Horse wasn't paying attention.
"So, Nick, where ya stayin'?" Red said as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
Nick finished what was in his mouth before he answered. "I'm not sure right now. I was living with my girlfriend, but she left." He heard Horse chuckle under his breath at that, so he turned and finished his remarks speaking directly to Horse. "She was sick, man. She went to the hospital." He emphasized the last word, and Horse shut up.
"You got any money?" Red said, and Nick froze. What was this, a setup to rob him?
"I got what you see on me. That's it. I don't have my wallet, don't even know where my car is now." Nick spread his hands and looked down at the Cowboys tee shirt. He really didn't have anything anymore, did he? This was it. This was as low as he had ever gotten. No place to live, no car, no money, not even his wallet, his driver's license, his identity. He was nothing with nothing. He had hit bottom and hadn't even bounced. He didn't even have a pair of real shoes, just rubber flip-flops. What the hell was he gonna do now?
"Hey, if you need a place to stay, you can have the couch," Red stood and brushed his hands together and pointed at the couch. "Makes no never mind to me. I trust you, and I only asked because I was thinkin' about food. We're gonna hafta go out and get some more, 'cause I'm runnin' low in the kitchen. We just finished off the last of my bread, you know? No offense, man."
Nick felt suddenly weak and shaky. "Thanks, man. I'll take ya up on it. You've saved my life, man. I wish I did have some money, though."
Now Horse belched and reached for the last forlorn sandwish half on the plate. "Maybe later we can help you find your car?" He glanced toward Red, who nodded. "You got any money in it? Your wallet in your car, maybe?"
"I dunno where my car is, but my wallet won't be in it. I had it on me, in my pants, and somebody took it when they took my clothes."
"Bummer," said Red, "well, don't worry. We'll sort it out."
Nick stretched, his belly almost full, the beer making him feel drowsy and dizzy, then he stopped as an idea struck him. "I just thought of something. Maybe I do know someplace where we can get some money, but it could be dangerous."
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Post by ColcordMama on May 17, 2012 20:51:53 GMT -7
36. "Which apartment, man?" Horse muttered as Nick rolled down the passenger side window of the pickup. Nick leaned out the window and squinted, trying to read the building letters in the dark. Why were so many of the parking lot lights out? He couldn't make out the letters and couldn't remember which was to go now.
"C'36. mon man," Red whispered hoarsely from behind the wheel of the idling truck. Nick opened the door and quietly stepped to the curb. "Where you goin', man?"
"Wait here, I gotta see which building this is," Nick whispered back over his shoulder. Why were they whispering? Whispering didn't make any sense. Nobody was gonna hear them out here in the parking lot in the middle of the night, and even if they did, who'd care? All it did was make them look like criminals. That bothered Nick. He didn't like to think of himself as a criminal, even though he'd been arrested, fingerprinted, even spent time in the slammer, that didn't make him a criminal in his mind. It wasn't his fault anyway. He'd seen it on tv, on one of those talk shows. It was society, society made people like him do things. It wasn't his fault. It was the welfare state. Yeah, the state was the criminal, wasn't it? He trotted right up to the big blocky building and finally saw what he was looking for, Building C. Which way was Building D, then? Was that it, over there? There were three parking lots in the complex, three ways in, and he was all turned around. Red had come in off the road past the Office Max, and Nick couldn't remember if he'd ever come in that way before, but Red was in a hurry and saw the buildings, the big apartment complex where Nick said the apartment was, so he took the first way he could find in, and that was off the Office Max road. Nick had to stand facing the way Office Max was, off to the east, to try to get his bearings back. It was the building to the left, that was it. Now it started to feel familiar again. He pulled the truck door open and climbed back in.
"Over there," he said, pointing. That's the building. I remember now. Park over by that dumpster. Do we need to go over this again?"
"Nah," said Horse, sucking through his bad teeth, making a nasty noise in the process. "You told me and I remember. Upstairs on the right. That's the one. I got it." He chuckled under this breath.
Red pulled the pickup truck up to the big dark dumpster, its lid propped open with the bags of uncollected garbage that filled the dumpster and spilled over onto the asphalt of the parking lot. The smell of rotting garbage wafted into the truck through the open window beside Nick, and he quickly wound the glass back up, then opened the door and got out so Horse could climb out. Horse stood there, stretching and yawning and scratching his ribs as Nick got back into the pickup, but Horse snaked his hand out and grabbed the door before Nick could close it. He leaned back into the truck.
"Point it out to me again, just to be sure," Horse said to Nick, and Nick stuck his hand out toward the windshield and pointed at the apartment on the second floor. Horse's foul breath floated across the cab of the truck as he exhaled. "Got it. What time is it?"
Red had a watch with a little button on the side of the face. He pressed the button and the watch lit up. "Eleven o'clock. You think that's too late, Nick?" Red turned in the darkness toward Nick on the seat and Horse, hanging in the open door.
"I don't see any lights in the window, but that don't mean anything. Give 'er a try, Horse," Nick replied. He wished Horse would just get on with it and close the door so they could breathe again. He also wished he had a cigarette but he didn't, and he wasn't going to bum one off either of these guys.
"Gotcha," said Horse, and he shut the door. He slapped the hood of the truck playfully as he skirted the front of the vehicle and started toward the building and the stairway that led to the landing on the second floor. "Be back in a flash with the cash," he croaked under his breath, but loud enough for the two in the truck to hear.
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Post by ColcordMama on May 17, 2012 20:53:17 GMT -7
37.
Horse walked up the stairs to the second floor landing, then turned right and in two long strides was at the apartment door. He knocked shave-and-a-haircut, six bits. That always meant "friend at the door" and had on more than one occasion opened a door for him when it would have been far better for the occupant to have kept the door closed and locked. The rapping rattled around hollowly inside, but that didn't mean much. People who had to rent apartments more often than not didn't have a lot of furniture, having spent most of their money on the first and last months' rent and the security deposit, so sometimes there wasn't much left over for furnishings. Horse knew these things well, having never risen much beyond the poverty level himself. He knew how it was for poor folk. He also knew how it was when poor folks got desperate. Desperate folks got desperate ways, he always said. There was no sound from inside, so he knocked again, this time just three times, almost like saying, "hey, c'mon now, it's me."
What if the place really was as empty as it sounded? He put his hand on the doorknob and tried it. The knob turned easily and the door swung open with a rusty creak. He felt for a switch with his left hand and flipped on the overhead light. There was nothing on the floor but a scattering of crumpled newspapers and an old sweatsock lying where it had falled in the middle of the ugly brown carpet. The place was empty, cleaned out, nothing but the kitchen appliances and the blinds on the windows. He opened the fridge, hping against hope to find a beer in there, but all it held was a plastic bowl with something greenish growing in it, a dried-out lemon and a shriveled black banana. No point in hanging around here. He flipped off thelight and went back down to the pickup truck, not even bothering to shut the apartment door behind himself.
"He's gone," Horse said as he slid onto the bench seat beside Nick. "Cleared out. Adios muchacho. Your buddy has done flew the coop, Nick. Now what?"
Nick grimaced. Crap. He wondered where Ed had gone. Maybe moved back to his mother's house. He'd kinda looked forward to Horse beating some money out of that little weasel, but not now. Nothing they could do about it now. He wasn't even sure where Ed's mother lived, somewhere in the southern part of town, but he didn't know where. They'd come all this way for nothing, and now they'd have to drive back to Centerville and try to think of something else. Sure would have enjoyed seeing Ed get his, though, after that computer crap he fed him about his ex-wife and her apartment. Maybe Ed had cleared out as soon as Nick went to find Bonnie, maybe he was afraid of what Nick would do when he found out she wasn't there after all. And he would have taken his revenge, too. He'd have enjoyed kicking the crap out of that little weasel. He suddenly realized that Red had asked him a question and they were both looking at him. "Huh? What?" he said, unclenching his fists and flexing his fingers, "wha'd you say?"
"I said," Red repeated with studied patience, "where to now?" Horse seemed to be enjoying some private thought, chucking to himself under his stinking breath and drumming the fingers of his right hand on the window ledge.
"Uh I guess we got no choice but to go back to Centerville," Nick replied, and for no reason he could figure, his stomach clenched as though he was scared. He wasn't scared! Scared of these two losers? But sitting there wedged between the two men he felt a trickle of sweat work its way slowly down his backbone as Red stared wordlessly at him for a long minute, then reached for the ignition and turned the key.
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Post by ColcordMama on May 17, 2012 20:54:26 GMT -7
38. Yesterday, sitting in Bob's apartment kitchen, they talked. There was no sense in keeping both apartments, not when they had the big house out in the woods and things showed no sign of returning to normal here in town. Now garbage was piling up around the dumpsters in the complex and beginning to stink. The complex had a bad feeling to it, nobody out doing normal things, trash littering the unkempt lawns and blowing around the parking lots. Some cars parked under the big carport shades had been broken into and vandalized; not Bonnie's car thankfully, but one belonging to her building and parked only two down from her sedan. There was broken glass scattered along the sidewalk in front of her building, too.
"The place feels snakebit," Bob said, and he was right. Bonnie had a creepy feeling about it, sort of like when a little shopping center or strip mall began to lose tenants and low-rent businesses moved in to fill the gaps, or when store fronts stood empty too long and graffiti started to appear. She knew exactly what he meant, and he was right. It was time to make some hard decisions.
"You can just leave your furniture in the apartment and take everything you can move," he gently suggested, "or I can go out and try to find a couple of men to help me move it over here and we'll keep this apartment as storage space." He was looking across the little kitchen table right into her eyes, holding her hands in his across the polished wood surface of the table. Lucy laughed and babbled to herself as she toddled around Bob's kitchen.
"Tell me what you want to do," he continued. "I don't want you to feel like you are hurning your bridges. I don't want you to feel trapped at the lodge with me."
"Oh no," Bonnie whispered, squeezing his fingers in her own, "I won't feel trapped, not with you. I just can't think what to do..! It's so much to try to figure out!" She took in a deep breath and let it out in a long, shuddering sigh. "Everything is too much..!" Then she saw a tiny frown line flash on his forehead and she added, "no, not you, it's this..." she gestured toward the window and the complex and the town beyond that. "It's all this death, all the change, all the deserted streets, no police, the stores closed..." She felt tears well up in her eyes and overflow, spilling down her cheeks, but she was holding his hands and didn't want to let go to wipe them away. "I don't even know if I still have a job anymore, or if my boss is still alive!"
"Honey, don't cry, it's okay," now Bob pulled one hand free and, fishing in the pocket of his jeans, brought out a folded cotton handkerchief and mopped at her face. "I know this is overwhelming for you, but you're safe with me. Both of you are. I love you and Lucy. I want to protect you. We need to be out of here, back in the lodge where it's safe, away from all this. Don't cry," and he dabbed at the fresh tears that streaked down her cheeks, "it'll be all right. Just trust me. We'll get through this together, with Lucy. Okay?"
Lucy lost her balance and sat down on the floor with a thump and began laughing. She glanced up at her mother just as Bonnie looied down into her eyes, and they both laughed this time.
"Okay," said Bonnie.
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Post by ColcordMama on May 17, 2012 20:56:03 GMT -7
39. Bonnie packed up her apartment and Bob found a man in the complex, a tenant who was sitting out by the pool sunning himself, who he paid to help him move the furniture and boxes over into Bob's place. It took two days to finish, and then Bob and Bonnie prepared to move the most important boxes and Lucy's bedroom furniture back to the house in the forest. It felt good to finally make a decision, to move forward decisively and start to get settled in.
She had to admit that was was more pleased than she let on to Bob about the whole thing. After all, isn't this what she wanted all along for Lucy, a stable family life in a big beautiful house with a man she loved? And now she wouldn't have to work, wouldn't have to worry about paying bills, she could devote her time and energy to her child and Bob, out in the woods in his house, far away from the Black Flu and all the problems of the world. How could it get any better? She hadn't been this happy in a long, long time. Maybe never, in fact.
Some of Bonnie's plants had survived the time they'd been gone, and most of Bob's because he had them on a wick system for watering. Bob loaded them all into the SUV. They loaded Bonnie's car, too. They would take both cars with them this time, of course. Bob was bringing extra pots and seeds, too. He had an idea to grow lots of things inside, in the family room with its big windows. Deer would just destroy any vegetable garden he might plant outside the house, because he didn't have any deer-proof fencing.
They left written notification that Bonnie was moving out, sliding the envelope, along with her keys, under the door to the complex office, and at three o'clock in the afternoon the two vehicles started out. Lucy was having her afternoon nap in the car seat. Traffic was surprisingly heavy. Bob was ahead of her when a light changed to red and trapped Bonnie at an intersection as Bob sped away, unaware that Bonnie wasn't behind him. As luck would have it, a car similar in size and color to Bonnie's swung into traffic at that moment and fell in about a block behind Bob. If he looked in the rear view mirror, he would think that Bonnie was still following him a little ways back, but she was stuck more than three blocks back, and other cars were filling in the gap so she couldn't pick out Bob's SUV easily far ahead of her.
They had been busy packing and organizing things, and hadn't discussed what to do if they became separated. Bonnie wasn't at all sure she could find the turn off to the house in the forest again, especially if it took so long that it began to grow dark. And then, out of nowhere, in a line of cars coming toward her along the street, a pickup flashed by and out of the corner of her eye she saw someone in it pointing at her car, an open mouth yelling, and she knew who it was. Nick had finally found her, and he had two other men with him.
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Post by ColcordMama on May 17, 2012 20:56:52 GMT -7
40.
She took the next right and turned hard, onto a residential street lined with parked cars. Frantically she looked for somewhere to hide, anywhere, but there were no narrow alleys, no hiding places. She knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that right now, back somewhere behind her, that pickup was pulling a sharp U turn and would soon be coming down this street, three pairs of eyes looking for her. She turned left and left again onto another side street, more houses and more parked cars. Coming up on her right she saw a house for sale, sign on the front lawn, clearly empty. Could she pull in and park in the garage? Pull the door down and hide there? But by the time she formulated the thought, she was past it and she saw it had a carport anyway, no help there. She turned right at the next corner, eyes darting left and right. Anything! An open garage! Could she pull in behind a house? But even as she thought it, she rejected it. Too risky. Too many complications. She could do it and still be seen from the street. She had to get out of this neighborhood! She glimpsed a pickup in her rear view mirror, turning onto the street two blocks back. Was that the one? She couldn't remember now...what color had it been? Was that three heads she saw in the cab of the pickup? She couldn't tell. She had to get out of this neighborhood! How many turns had she made now? Where was Bob? Which direction was she going?
She saw a stop sign and had to slam on the brakes to keep from crashing into a blue sedan traveling through the intersection, then she gunned it and turned into the flow of traffic behind the sedan. She seemed to have left the residential area and was moving intio a commercial section of the city, then the recognized it. This was near her office. Her office! She stopped at a familiar corner for another stop sign and looked in her rear view mirror. Was that a pickup back there? How many heads? Then she was off again, making a turn to the left, almost cutting off a van, racing down a side street, then down a little alley she knew and a sharp left turn and she was in the tiny rear parking lot of the office building where she used to park every day to go to work. The dumpster was still there, one parking space away from the wall of the building next door, so she pulled in there and drove as far forward as she could, to tuck the rear of her sedan into the shadows. Would Nick find her here? What if he knew where she worked? Was this a bad place to be trapped with her child if he found her car? Back behind buildings that were in all probability deserted now, with no one close to hear her screams, no one to care? She hunched down in her seat as if that would make her car less visible from the alley and balled her hands into fists and clamped her lips to keep from crying out. She threw a quick look over her shoulder at Lucy. The little girl was sound asleep, head on one side, a slight smile on her rosebud lips. It was almost four o'clock. Bob was gone by now, way out on the highway, thinking she was following behind, knowing where to go. But she was here, hiding in her car behind an old office building in a deserted part of town, scared out of her wits, without a clue what to do. Then she heard an engine rattling slowly along, somewhere nearby, a big engine like a pickup truck would have.
Not fast, not a pickup truck going somewhere on purpose, somewhere with something to do. Slow because the driver was in search mode. Hunting. Her.
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Post by ColcordMama on May 17, 2012 20:57:36 GMT -7
41. Bob was lost in a happy daydream of living in his lakeside lodge with a ready made family, nights in front of the fireplace cuddling with Bonnie, days playing in the forest with Lucy, tending a garden of pots lined up along the windows in the family room. He slowed slightly when he hit the highway so Bonnie's car could catch up, then when he saw it coming up a few cars back behind him, he hit the gas again so they could make good time and get there before dark. It was late afternoon now. They'd be there before dark, get everything unloaded, have a quick meal and relax. He made a mental note to bring in wood for the fireplace as he unloaded the cars, so they could have a nice cheery fire tonight. He felt a little guilty over the happiness he was experiencing now during such an awful time of disease and death, but the longer he thought about it, the better he was able to rationalize it. Didn't everyone want to be healthy? Didn't everyone want to be in love and loved? Just because he wasn't rending his garments, beating his chest and rubbing ashes in his hair didn't mean he was glad so many people had died during the pandemic. Sure he felt sorry for those who were suffering and dying, and for the families left behind to mourn and probably get sick, too. Who wouldn't be sympathetic? It would take a real monster, someone with no soul at all, to take pleasure in such a global tragedy. He was just an average Joe, trying to get by, trying to keep himself and his family safe and provided for during tough times.
He had to backtrack at that thought. He knew he was far from being an average Joe. No average Joe had his background and training. In all probability there was not another man in all of Centerville who knew what he knew, had done the things he had done in the name of duty. Not even war veterans could claim to be as experienced in some things as he was, and that was a fact of life.
He glanced in his rear view mirror again and noted with satisfaction that Bonnie was finally catching up with him again, really hitting the gas as she passed a couple of cars. It must have unnerved her to have been caught in traffic back there and she was making up for lost time. He looked at the road ahead and corrected for a slight curve in the roadway, then looked back again. The little car was accelerating toward him much faster than good sense and the speed limit would allow. Did Bonnie really drive that recklessly? Was something wrong? He touched the brakes and let the SUV slow a little, glancing every couple of seconds at the car barreling up behind. Now it came to within thirty feet of his rear bumper and he realized with alarm that it wasn't her, that the car he had assumed for so many long miles was hers had a man at the wheel, a sullen-looking young man with a cigarette hanging out of his mouth. The make and color of the vehicle were right but it held no boxes and bags, no Lucy in her car seat in the back. The man behind him slapped at his turn signal, pulled around Bob and roared ahead as Bob touched the brakes again, flipped his own turn signal and pulled off the road onto the right shoulder. He let the SUV roll to a stop and sat there with the engine idling. Two more cars whizzed by, then a delivery van. Bonnie would be along shortly. All he had to do was sit here and wait. It was a nice open stretch along the flat before the hilly forested part began. She'd be able to see him sitting here waiting for her, and she'd pull in behind him and they would be okay. Then they would continue on to the lodge.
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Post by ColcordMama on May 17, 2012 20:58:18 GMT -7
42.
After five minutes he turned off the car. No point in wasting precious gas just sitting here. He got out of the car and walked around it once, stretching his legs. He was already tired from all the heavy lifting, carrying boxes and bags down stairs, packing and loading. It would be good to get home and finish this, get something to eat, then stretch out on the couch in front of a roaring fire. It was going to be cold tonight. It would be perfect.
After fifteen minutes, he was worried. After twenty minutes the worry had blossomed into full-blown alarm. Why hadn't they figured something out in case they got separated? Where could she be? Then he had a thought that hit him like a blow to the stomach. What if she had been in an accident back there somewhere? For the first time in his adult life, which had up to now more than the average Joe's share of high-tension life-threatening moments, Bob felt his knees began to shake. An image of torn metal, blood on the street, Lucy screaming, an ambulance wailing came to him, and it made him feel sick to his stomach. He scrambled back into the driver's seat. His hand shook as he cranked the ignition and yanked the gear shift into drive. At the last minute he remembered to check behind him for oncoming traffic before he pulled a U turn onto the highway and accelerated back the way he had come. He tried to calm himself using the tricks he'd been taught when he was a professional, but all he could think of was Bonnie and Lucy, and a horrible auto accident. He tried to pray, to bargain with God as he drove. Just keep them safe, he whispered, just keep them safe and I'll do anything you want. Just keep them safe. Don't let them be hurt.
It felt like a week before he reached the city limits. He had been watching the oncoming traffic the whole way, hoping against hope she had been delayed somehow and was trying to catch up to him, but he hadn't seen her at all. He slowed when he hit the traffic lights of town and took every opportunity to look along the streets in case she had just broken down and was pulled over, waiting for him, but he didn't see her car. He drove all the way back to the intersection where he had for sure seen her last, and she wasn't there either. He turned around and drove back along the same stretch, slower this time, all the way to the city limits where the highway began, glancing left and right at each intersection just in case she had been forced to pull off the road and was sitting around the corner at the curb, but still he didn't see her.
Bob looked at his watch. It was five o'clock. Could she have forgotten smething back at his apartment and gone back to get it? Was she sitting in the parking lot there right now? He was fighting the urge to panic. If she had gone back for something, she'd have gotten it by now and be back on the road again, wouldn't she? Should he park along the road here and wait for her? What if somehow he had missed her and she was already out on the highway, heading out toward the lodge, thinking he was ahead of her? Did she remember the way to the lodge? He tried to remember if she seemed to be paying attention to landmarks when he took her to the turnoff. He didn't think she was. She had been distracted and it wasn't easy to find the place where the little dirt road began. Now he grew angry with himself. He had always been so organized, so careful in his arrangements! He could make complicated plans involving many people and agencies and bring off a big operation without a hitch, but this time he had blown it, and blown it big time. He should have made contingency plans in the event they became separated, and he didn't, and now he didn't know where she was or where he should wait for her. And in a worst case scenario, it could cost someone's life.
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Post by ColcordMama on May 17, 2012 21:00:08 GMT -7
43. Her heart was pounding and her mouth was dry. How could her mouth be dry when her hands were so wet with sweat that they were slipping on the steering wheel? She slowly opened her hands and wiped them on her pants. She could still hear the big engine rumbling somewhere nearby. Where were they? What if they found her? She knew Nick, knew what he was capable of, but what about the other two? She knew the kind of people Nick used to hang out with, and if the same held true now, those other two men could be violent and stupid and probably criminals. She had no reason to think any of Nick's buddies would be anything more. In the seat behind her Lucy stirred in her sleep and whimpered, then she drifted off into deep sleep mode again.
Now it was quiet outside. Bonnie silently rolled the driver side window down just a few inches so she could hear better. Nothing. She could hear twittering of birds, but no pickup truck engine. Birds? She could hear birds singing? Had the birds come back? She rolled the window all the way down and edged her head out slightly to take a look. Sure enough, there were four or five pigeons perched on the edge of a rain gutter on the insurance building next door. They seemed nervous, cocking their iridescent heads to look at her, shaking their wings and trying to get settled in for the night. It was nice to see birds again. She thought the flu had killed them all off long ago. She was relieved to see that it had not. Maybe the world would get back to normal again soon.
She stayed like that for what seemed a long time, but in reality was only fifteen minutes. The fresh air smelled good and she began to relax a little bit. She was safe. They hadn't found her. Bob was waiting at the house for her. All she had to do was wait for nightfall and go to him. It would be safer driving in the dark, but harder to find her way; she couldn't chance iit getting out on the streets when it was still daylight, when Nick and his friends might see her. She had tio hope she could stay away from well-lighted streets long enough to get away from town, out on the highway, and then she'd be safest of all. Then she could deal with trying to find Bob's house, hidden down that long dirt road in the forest. Her stomach rumbled and began to hurt. She was hungry. They hadn't had much to eat the past couple of days, just what they could find at the apartments, and she was hungry now. Lucy must be hungry too, even though both of them had sacrificed what they ate to make sure Lucy was well fed. It would not do for Lucy to wake up hungry and start crying right now. That could give them away if Nick and his buddies were parked somewhere close, listening and waiting for her to make a run for it. She had to keep Lucy quiet no matter what, so just in case, she rolled her window back up again.
What if she got out of her car and tiptoed to the entrance of the parking lot and looked down the alley both ways? She could be extra careful not to expose herself, could hide along the side of the building. Did she have a mirrored compact in her purse? She had seen someone in a movie use a mirror to get a quick look around a corner. Could she do that now? Would she be able to see them if they were parked at either end of the alley? Or would they see her hand? Where could they be? Would Nick's buddies help him if he found her and started beating her again? Would they try to stop him? Would they care, or were they just going along for the ride? What did Nick want from her? Why didn't he just leave her alone?
It was dusk now. She could just drive out and take her chances, or she could sneak to the corner of the building and try to take a look to see if they were around. If she waited any longer it would be too dark to see the pickup, parked with its lights off. She decided to try. Lucy stirred in her sleep when Bonnie's car door squeaked on its hinges as she opened it. She froze with it half open, waiting to see if Lucy was going to wake up, but the little girl went back to sleep. Rather than risk the noise of the door closing, Bonnie left it open and slipped out. She had her compact in her hand as she crept along the brick wall to the corner of the office building. The compact made a little snap sound when she opened it and she cringed, but she held it out with the mirrored lid extended and slowly, slowly stuck it just a little beyond the corner, so she could see down the length of the alley. Shadows were lengthening and it was difficulat to distinguish between the dark shapes that littered the far end of the alley, where it joined a small feeder street that connected a residential neighborhood with the business district. Was that the hood of a pickup down there? Was that a Chevy emblem sticking up from it? She pushed the compact out farther and angled it a bit more, trying to see if she could tell if there were heads beyond the hood shape, but it was too dark and she couldn't see well enough. She couldn't even decide if it was a vehicle she was seeing, or a pile of boxes. Where she crouched she could easily see down the alley the other direction, the way she had come. That way was clear, straight to the connecting street. There was nothing but some back doors and garbage cans and packing boxes. She could pull out of the parking lot and drive back the way she had come, but if the pickup truck was the other direction, parked there waiting, they would see her tail lights and follow her instantly. If she drove the other way down the alley, she'd have to go right past where they were parked, if they were indeed parked there.
What if she drove out without turning on her headlights? Would the tail lights still come on if she hit the brakes? But weren't the tail lights always on, whenever the headlights were on? She was sure that was the case. Now what?
Then she heard Lucy crying. The baby started with a whimper, which Bonnie could clear hear where she stood because of the open car doo, and then Lucy cried earnestly, mad and hungry and afraid because her mommy wasn't there and it was getting dark. There was no time. Bonnie had run out of options. She had to go, go right now, so she ran for the car, jumped in, slammed the door and turned the ignition. She'd go back the way she had come. She didn't have time to worry about it. It was time to go no matter what.
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Post by ColcordMama on May 17, 2012 21:01:38 GMT -7
44.
Slowly, slowly Bonnie backed the car away from the dumpster, put it in reverse and turned the car so it faced the alley. She was still torn about using headlights and having tail lights give her away. She could barely see the wall of the building across from the parking lot, on the other side of the alley. If she had to leave her headlights off, she'd be taking a chance, but she could get it done. She edged to the ellay and turned back the way she had come, keeping her speed low. She she could just get far enough ahead down the alley could get through a couple of intersections with the little side streets, then even if she did have to turn on her lights she could probably outrun the pickup if they saw her and came after her.
The first intersection, the one where she had turned into the alley, was clear. She drove on through and into the alley again. Now she was two blocks away from where she thought the pickup might have been parked. Lucy was sniffling behind her, making a noise like she was sucking on her fingers, and it was distracting. All Bonnie could do was hope Lucy would feel around in her car seat and find her bottle. Maybe there was still some canned juice in it. She couldn't worry about that right now. There were far more important things to worry about.
Entering the intersection, Bonnie made a snap decision and pulled the wheel hard to the left, turning onto the street. Once past the corner of the building she switched on the headlights and gunned it. Now she was speeding across another intersection, through a green light, going toward the place where the highway connected to the town. There were very few card on the road now, and none behind her. She breathed a sigh of relief and her stomach muscles unclenched. They weren't following her. They hadn't seen her, if they even had been parked there. She had gotten away. Now all she had to worry about was finding the house out in the forest. That, and getting something for them both to eat.
She tried to remember if there was anything edible packed away in the boxes and bags stuffed into her car. What box would it be in? Or was the food in Bob's car? She couldn't wait much longer. Her stomach was pinching and growling and Lucy was crying. She passed a Burger King, but it was closed and dark. She saw a small grocery store up ahead, the lights on and a couple of cars out front. It was open! But could she chance stopping, taking the time to unbuckle Lucy from her car seat, go inside and shop, check out, buckle Lucy back in and get back on the road again in a hurry? No. Not here, not out in the open like this, on a major road where Nick and his pals could drive by and see her car sitting there. She had to keep going. The little grocery store whipped past. It was better to keep going safely and eat when she got home. Home. Yes, it was home now. She had given up her apartment, turned in the key. She had a new home with Bob, out in the deep woods away from all this, away from Nick and whatever he wanted. Her throat constricted with a sob and tears stung her eyes. She was so lucky. Bob was such a good man. Where was he now? Waiting for her at the house? Or looking for her on the road, worried sick about her and Lucy? What if he noticed that she wasn't behind him and turned back to find her? What if she got to the house and he wasn't there, what then? They hadn't discussed a hideout key. How would she get into the house? Could she climb up to the roof of the back porch and get in through the bedroom window? Had she locked it the other night? She couldn't remember now. Where was Bob? He wouldn't go to the house and sit there and wait for her to show up. That wasn't like him. He'd come back and look for her. He had to be here now, somewhere, looking for her car. But where?
She pulled off the road at a place where a small road led off to the west, where there was a wide spot, and stopped the car. She had to think. What would he do? Where would he logically be? His first priority would be her and Lucy. She knew that. So what would he do? He'd have turned around and come back to look for them. He was somewhere between the town and the house, looking for her car. So where should she look for him, without exposing herself and Lucy to the danger posed by Nick and his buddies? Or should she just sit here and wait for him to come back this way? Would Nick look this far out for her? What direction had she been going when he had spotted her in traffic? This way. He saw her headed this way, to the highway headed toward the mountains. That meant he could come back looking for her, even out three or four miles from town. But why would he? He wouldn't expect her to break down or be sitting beside the highway for any reason, would he? No He would have to think she had a destination this direction. She tried to think. What was ahead of her in town when Nick saw her? Were there any stores open that way? Not Wal-Mart. That was a completely different direction. Might she have been heading toward that little grocery store she had passes a couple of minutes ago? She couldn't remember iif any other places were open along that stretch of street, places she could have been going, place Nick would think she was going to. Maybe he saw the boxes that filled the car and thought she was heading out of town, moving away. That way he would give up on her, write her off as lost for good. He would never find her if she moved out of town. But wait. How had he found her apartment in the first place?
An eighteen-wheeler roared by her car, rocking it and throwing up a cloud of dust and grit that spattered the windshield, and Lucy began wailing anew. Bonnie had to think, had to find something for them to eat. She began rummaging in the boxes stacked on the passenger seat beside her, but they only held towels and toilet paper and medicine from the bathroom cabinet, and books and important papers. There were more boxes on the floorboards, so she felt around in one of them, a shoebox. In the darkness it felt like little bottles and tubes. Makeup? Then she felt a salt shaker, and her hand closed around a box, and she knew what it was. Strawberry Pop Tarts. She remembered packing the box in Bob's kitchen. With cold fingers she ripped ope the box and pulled out one of the thick packets and tore it open. The smell of strawberry jam wafted up from the pastries. Hushing and shushing her daughter, Bonnie broke off a soft middle part of one of them and gave it to Lucy, who promptly stuck it into her mouth and began sucking on it. Bonnie ate the other pastry and fed what little pieces she could to Lucy, who noisly gobbled it up, sniffling and whimpering back there in the dark. Bonnie found a bottle of water and drank from it, and filled Lucy's bottle from it. She hung over the front seat and changed Lucy's wet diaper, then exhaustion overwhelmed her, and in spite of the danger, she went to sleep. She first made sure the doors were all locked, then she made a pillow out of a folded bath towel and leaned across the box next to her and went to sleep. The car rocked gently from time to time as heavy trucks rushed by, and the noise of the sporadic traffic was almost soothing in its rhythm.
It was almost midnight when Bonnie was awakened by the sound of loud knocking, someone rapping on the driver's side window. She flashed awake instantly, afraid and alert, flailing about in the darkness for anything to use as a weapon, her hand grabbing the Pop Tart box, brandishing it ineffectually toward the window. In the darkeness she saw a shadowy figure hovering there, a fist against the glass, knuckles hitting the window. She shot upright in the seat and her hand flew to the keys in the ignition, then she heard the man's voice.
"Bonnie honey? Unlock the door! It's me, Bob!"
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