by Lopez, Rob
Reluctantly, Josh went up to the front door. The thought of what lay inside turned his stomach. Slowly, he turned the handle.
The stench hit him immediately and he wretched, throwing up the contents of his stomach.
“Bad, ain’t it?” chuckled the man. “Now that you’re empty, you should be able to get in there.”
Spitting out pieces of apple, Josh covered his nose and ventured in.
The reek of death caused him to vomit again, bringing up acid and bile. Dropping to his hands and knees and coughing, he crawled to the kitchen. Grabbing a towel to cover his face, he reached up into a cabinet and fumbled around, his eyes streaming. His hand fetched up on a can and he ran out of the house, dropping it on the stoop.
“Sweet Jesus, that ain’t enough,” said the man in disgust. “Get a bag, boy.”
Drawing in the clean outside air, Josh braced himself and went back in. A frantic search through the drawers produced no bags, so he just grabbed more tins and threw them out the door.
All the time he was trying to think of what he could do about the man. A hunt for weapons in the house was out of the question. Josh didn’t want to come across the bodies that were most certainly in an advanced state of decay. There was a knife on the counter, but it was too big to hide on his person and Josh had the same doubts as before about using it against the man. He couldn’t think of a way he could harm him while he still held onto Lizzy.
Opening the windows to clear some of the odor, Josh threw out bags of pasta, flour and sugar. As they broke open and spilled on the paved path outside, he heard the man protest, but Josh was in a hurry to get out of there. Emptying the cabinets of everything he could see, he finally grabbed a sack of rice and a bottle of oil and staggered outside.
The man, gripping Lizzy’s neck tightly, aimed the revolver at him. “That was just plain careless,” he said. “Now get back inside and find some containers to put the flour and sugar into. I ain’t licking it off the ground. Hurry up, before the ants get to them.”
Wearily, Josh did as he was told, scooping up powder and grit. Then he went around the back to fetch a wheelbarrow as ordered, and loaded up the food.
The rest of the morning was spent going into every house and clearing out anything edible he could find and wheeling it back to the house, the man casually following him. There was very little to clear out, and the only houses that yielded substantial finds were those where the occupants had died before they could eat their supplies. As Josh wretched and coughed outside each such house, the man lay on the lawns, waving the revolver at his sister’s head and laughing softly.
“That’ll teach you,” he kept saying. “If you’d have done as I asked when I first asked you, this would all be over. Hell, we’d have had food for all of us. Could be we’d be sitting down at a picnic, like one big happy family.”
Josh glowered, but could do nothing.
By midday, the man felt they had enough food and marched the children back to the house. Sitting in Grandma’s chair with Lizzy on his lap, he opened a can of peaches. “Get yourself something to eat, boy. You’re going to need the energy for this afternoon. You’re going to discover what a hard day’s work is like.”
Josh sullenly stared at him. Hungry as he felt, he wasn’t going to give the man the satisfaction of his compliance.
The man sneered. “Have it your way. But you’ll learn.”
Pulling the knife out of his belt – the same knife he’d used to kill Grandma – he spiked a peach slice with it and ate. He watched Josh as he did so, the revolver still in his hand, and Josh watched him back. Amused by Josh’s defiance, he speared another peach slice and held it to Lizzy’s mouth.
Lizzy recoiled from the offering on the blood stained blade, and Josh started at the sight of the knife so close to his sister’s face. There was a click as the man cocked the revolver.
“You’d better eat, girly,” he said. “Your loving brother wants you to grow up healthy and strong.”
Lizzy’s eyes welled up with tears, staring at her brother. Josh wanted to rush in to save her. He wanted to smash the man’s face to pulp.
Swallowing her sobs, Lizzy delicately closed her lips around the peach slice, sliding it off the knife.
“There, that’s good,” said the man. “See? It’s not so hard.”
The man finished off the rest of the can, chomping triumphantly.
“There’s a bucket in the hall,” he told Josh. “Get me some water. And not from some pool. I like it fresh. Get yourself down to the creek.”
Josh didn’t want to leave Lizzy, and her eyes implored him not to go, but the revolver was still cocked, and still aimed at her head. Silently willing her to understand, he edged out of the room, grabbed the bucket and ran out the front door.
He slowed to a walk when he was out of sight of the house. He had no intention of going to the creek. Instead he looked around at some of the houses he’d entered, his thoughts focused on what could be useful to him.
*
The clock ticked in the house. The man clicked his teeth. Lizzy turned her neck slightly to loosen his tight grip. She didn’t dare move more than that.
The man de-cocked the revolver. He tapped the barrel against the table a few times. He scratched his beard growth. He twitched his leg.
“Jesus Christ,” he exclaimed. “That clock is going to drive me crazy.”
He tapped the revolver against the table some more. Scratched his beard again. Twitched his leg until his heel was hammering on the floor.
“That’s it. I’ve had enough,” he said, springing up. Pushing Lizzy before him, he steered her to Grandma’s bedroom. Grabbing the clock, he tossed it through the window, smashing the glass.
“That’s better,” he said.
Lizzy stood stock still.
“Time flies, huh?” he said, laughing to himself.
Lizzy didn’t reply.
“Jesus, you’re no fun. I thought kids were supposed to be fun.”
He exhaled loudly and clicked his teeth again.
He pulled the drawers out in a dresser, shaking the contents loose, kicked the bed to move it, then rifled through the clothes in the closet. “What’s the point of having all this crap?” he said. “Ain’t no use to me now, is it?”
Unaware that it was supposed to be, Lizzy averted her gaze to avoid seeing her grandparents’ belongings treated like dirt.
Bored of the bedroom, the man steered her toward the kitchen, looking out into the garden. Lizzy shut her eyes, not wanting to see the body of her grandma still lying by the garage. She was finding it difficult to breathe now, and it wasn’t because of the man’s grip. Terror froze her lungs, and she thought she was going to have an asthma attack like her friend Dorothy used to have.
“Now that there is what happens when people get unreasonable,” he said. “That your grandma? Huh? Well, it’s a shame, but a man don’t take kindly to being shot at.”
Quivering with tension, Lizzy snapped. “You broke into our house.”
“You can speak, then? I was starting to wonder. Broke into your house? Yeah, same as you and your brother were doing when I caught you. What goes around comes around, kid. Ain’t no point complaining now. Live by the sword, die by the sword, that’s what I say.”
The man laid the revolver down on the kitchen counter and twirled it a few times. Lizzy didn’t know much about psychology, or drug addiction, but she knew something wasn’t right with him. He couldn’t keep still. There was no telling what he was going to do next. Lizzy’s gut was heavy with the thought that neither she nor Josh were going to make it to nightfall. Josh especially. The man had a special grudge against him. Lizzy bit her lip.
“You gonna cry now?” he said, snatching up the revolver again. “Jeez, your grandma’s been dead since yesterday. Get over it. When my grandma died, it didn’t bother me much. I was doing a spell inside, at the time, but the news was no biggie. I didn’t like her that much, anyway.”
He dragged her along wi
th him until they were in her bedroom.
“Are these all your pictures?” he said, a touch of wonder in his voice.
Lizzy opened her eyes. For the past few days she’d been drawing constantly, and her pictures were lined up the full length of one wall.
“Now, I like these.” He peered closer, like an art aficionado. “You sure draw a lot of planes and cars.”
Several of the pictures featured different shaped planes, flying alone in the sky. The cars all had two women in them, their hair swept back in the breeze.
“Why’s there a bear in every car?” he asked. “And two women? Does that mean something?”
Lizzy refused to answer.
“I used to like drawing when I was inside. Took lessons. You need more perspective on some of these. Get the angles right.”
Lizzy had no idea what he was talking about.
The man sorted through the drawers, just like in the other room. “Not even a lighter,” he said. “Doesn’t anyone smoke around here?” The man snorted in disgust. “Hey, that boy’s taking his time. You don’t think he’s run off, do you? Seemed to be awful keen to get out of the door. You think he’s gone and left you? I got a brother who’d do that.”
The man stopped, as if troubled by a memory.
“Oh yeah, he’d do that.”
He steered her back to the living room. He was checking the soil of the dead potted plants to see if there was anything hidden there when Josh returned, his bucket full of water.
“About time,” said the man. “Drop it right there and get me a cup.”
*
Josh backed away slowly to the kitchen, trying to control his breathing. His heart hammered. Fetching a cup he returned, holding it out for the man.
“What’s the matter with you boy? You look like you need a crap real bad. Something wrong with the water? You trying to poison me, is that it? You take a drink first, and I ain’t taking no for an answer.”
Josh made an effort to control his nerves and approached the bucket, dipping the cup. Without hesitation, he drank it.
It tasted of chlorine, but it could have been worse. Leaving the cup by the bucket, he stepped well back.
The man eyed him suspiciously, and Josh focused his gaze on Lizzy, trying to see if she was okay. She looked back at him, and her eyes widened, as if she saw something wasn’t quite right about him. Josh put on his best fake smile for her, but that only made her more concerned.
The man put his arm over Lizzy’s shoulder, using it to pick up the cup while keeping her pinned to him with his elbow on her chest. The revolver remained in the other hand, pointed to one side. He took a sip of the water, savored it, then spat it out.
“Jesus, this is pool water! What the hell have you been doing all this time? You could have been to the creek and back three times by now.”
Josh wasn’t listening. He was reaching to the whip tucked into the back of his pants. Taking the handle, he shook it out to uncoil it, and then lashed out with it.
In the house where he’d found it, he’d practiced over and over, trying to get it to wrap around the target right. When he used to watch Indiana Jones movies with his dad, he’d practice the same thing in the garden with a piece of rope, and got pretty good with it. Right now, his heart was in his mouth as he realized he only had the one chance.
He was aiming for the revolver. He thought if he could entangle it and yank it out of the man’s grip, he could get it himself. His aim wasn’t quite so good, though. The synthetic whip lashed the man’s hand instead, without wrapping itself around anything.
The man reacted like he’d been stung by a bee, jerking his hand back and releasing the revolver.
It tumbled to the floor. Like a released spring, Josh dived forward, groping for the weapon. The man danced around, still pissed about his hand, and Josh’s fingers grasped the revolver, jerking it back when the man tried to kick him.
Josh had never fired a gun. Didn’t realize how heavy the trigger would be on double action. Aiming for the man, he fired the gun, jerking it sideways at the same time. A chunk of plaster blew out by the man’s head. By the time Josh realized he’d missed, the man had grabbed Lizzy and run out the front door with her.
Recovering too slowly, Josh scrambled up, dashed out after him, and stopped dead.
The man was crouched behind Lizzy on the lawn, and he had the knife pressed up against her throat.
“Oh, I should have known,” said the man, disappointed and angry. “Something wasn’t right about you when you came back. I should have seen that. Smart move, but you ain’t smarter than me. Put the gun down now, or I swear I’m going to slit your sister’s throat from one ear to the other.”
Josh was under no illusions that the man would let him live if he put the revolver down. Nor even his sister. Holding the gun in both hands, and determined to hold it steady, he aimed it at what little he could see of the man’s head. The gunsight looked huge, covering most of the man’s skull and some of Lizzy’s too.
The man crouched lower. “Don’t do it, boy. You know you ain’t got it in you. You’ll hit your sister. Or I’ll kill her and use her body as a shield. Either way, she’s dead.”
The gunsight wavered. Holding the gun out straight, he couldn’t keep it steady, and the longer he waited, the heavier it felt. He could barely see the man’s head now. Lowering the sights, he targeted the arm that held the knife, but the sights wavered between that and Lizzy’s chest.
“I’m going to give you three seconds. Then, by God, I’m going to kill you both.”
Josh held his breath, trying to keep the sight still.
“One!”
The gun wobbled, the trigger finger slick with sweat.
“Two!”
Josh had to take the shot, but he couldn’t decide where to shoot. No matter where he aimed, Lizzy was there.
A drone began in his ear, getting louder. There was a sudden burst of sound, and a shadow passed overhead, an engine roaring. Looking up, Josh saw a plane passing so low over the rooftops, he thought he could reach up and touch it.
The man glanced up and laughed. “Time’s up, boy. It’s a beautiful sight, but I win.”
44
Kowalski flew close to the center of Charlotte, and Rick looked out in dismay at the devastation. It was no different from the other cities, but to Rick it meant more, because this was where his family was. Bringing the plane down low, Kowalski lined it up with the Andrew Jackson Highway, trying to find a large enough gap between the abandoned vehicles. Touching down on the asphalt and leaving a wake of prop-blown litter, he taxied to a halt, leaving the engine running.
Rick and Scott were ready to leap out immediately. Leaning into the cockpit, Rick shook Kowalski’s hand. “You have no idea how grateful I am,” he said.
“I’ve got an idea how much,” said Kowalski modestly.
Scott bumped fists with the pilot. “You’re still an asshole, though,” he said.
“Yeah, but it takes one to know one,” grinned the pilot.
“Good luck, man,” said Rick.
“You too. You’d better get moving.”
As Kowalski opened the throttle and turned the plane around, Rick and Scott double timed it up the embankment and vaulted fences as they raced through neighborhood gardens.
Equipment jangling on his vest as he ran, Rick glanced apprehensively at the deserted streets, the downed power lines, the evidence of looting: everything he saw mocked him for arriving too late. Feet pounding as he careered around corners, he spurred himself on, his anxiety heightening by the second.
Reaching the head of the street where his parents-in-law lived, he scanned the houses, finally catching sight of a figure. As the scene swam into focus, he discerned the awful scenario he’d been dreading.
Some guy was on the lawn, holding his beloved daughter at knife point. Josh was aiming a pistol that was too big for him at the man, looking like he was going to shoot his own sister. Rick wanted to shout, but he was too far away.
He skidded to a halt, snapping his rifle up to aim, but the range was too great to be sure of a clear shot.
Aiming anyway, the world dragged its feet in slow motion as his heart went into overdrive. He witnessed his son’s wavering, unsteady hands. Saw the horror on his daughter’s face as the knife was pulled tight to her throat. Rick’s finger squeezed on the trigger, taking up the slack, all the while making calculations for the fall of shot.
A shadow fell across the scene as the Cessna roared low over the street, and the man looked up, moving his head clear of Lizzy’s. Rick was about to take the shot when Josh’s gun cracked, and the man jerked his head further back, a gout of blood arcing from his cheek. Lizzy wrestled herself free and took a step away. The man fell backwards, putting an arm down to catch himself, his body sagging, the knife flashing in his hand.
Rick didn’t wait to see if the man was able to get up again. Pinning him in his sights, he pounded the trigger several times. Alongside him, Scott did the same. The man jerked and twisted as the bullets ripped him up, and he kept falling. Rick emptied his magazine until the body bounced and lay still.
Overhead, Kowalski made another low pass, waggled his wings farewell, and turned for home.
45
Lauren didn’t arrive until it was nearly dark. Obstructions on the road, a leaking radiator and, at one point, a blowout, slowed her down on the numerous and confusing back roads. Pushing the ailing pickup to its limits, a high pitched knocking coming from its engine, she screeched around the last corner and onto her parents’ street, skidding to a halt outside the house. She was astounded to see her husband in a rocking chair on the porch, cradling his children like babies, who were curled asleep on his chest.
It was like a mirage. Dumbstruck, Lauren got out of the cab, moving cautiously lest she disturb this dream. Her husband gazed at her, the saddest of smiles on his face. Lauren gazed back, the years falling away as she beheld the man she fell in love with a lifetime ago.