Seth sauntered off to the shallow graves with plenty to think about. Maybe that wasn’t Miller’s intent, but it was the outcome nonetheless.
Miller watched as Seth knelt beside the grave, sobbing but doing his best to dry his tears with a filthy sleeve. What he told Seth was the truth: it made him feel like shit, but it was the harsh reality of it all. If the police started falling apart, where would that leave the rest of the civilians?
Sam turned to Miller and shook his head. “What the hell was that this afternoon, Captain?”
“I know what you’re going to say, Sam, and normally I’d be right there beside you, but this was different.” Miller could barely look Sam in the eye.
“Different? We murdered a man in cold blood today, Miller.” Sam gestured to the killing tree. “These kinds of things change a person, rarely for the better.”
“I can’t do anything about that now, Sam. Half the camp was ready to erupt over what happened to Tobias. They needed justice.”
“Well, they got it alright—in spades. At any rate, it’s probably not safe to stay here tonight after all the commotion.”
“There are a lot of reasons we shouldn’t stay here tonight, Sam.” Miller opened his hand to reveal a scorched locket. He brushed away some soot and flipped it open. Inside, a tiny portrait of Tobias and his family during happier times miraculously escaped the inferno.
Sam turned away from the memento and fixed his gaze upon the remains of the broken family. “Jesus Christ.”
Miller tucked the trinket safely away in his breast pocket and nodded in agreement. “Gather everyone up, Sam. We’re leaving.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Ben’s Diner
Ben’s Diner was situated at the inside of a sharp curve on an almost abandoned stretch of countryside. On the west end of the street stood a ransacked post office, windows smashed. Discarded mail and papers littered the road in front. The place looked to have blown up from the inside, but no scorch marks or the telltale signs of explosion existed. It was merely trashed, as if whoever did the deed wasn’t simply scavenging for supplies. More likely they reveled in the destruction. The north side of the curve featured what remained of a small house. Maybe it belonged to the owner of the diner. It could have been Ben’s house, if there ever was a Ben. A truck obviously took the curve way too fast. Black marks on the pavement went clear through the house and out into the backyard. What was left of the home collapsed in on itself some time ago.
The caravan pulled up alongside the diner. Some vehicles parked in the overly large lot; it was big for such a humble building. Most of the vehicles stayed in the road, just on the diner’s side of the curve. Anyone approaching wouldn’t know the caravan was there until they were on top of them.
The survivors had been on the road for hours without a stop since they fled the cabin. Still, Samantha refused to get out of the car. “She killed him. She stood there right in front of all of us and killed him, just like that, like it was nothing,” Samantha cried in frustration.
“The guy murdered half her family, Samantha. Her son, her little boy,” Markus replied sympathetically, though it was clear the previous night’s events had unhinged the man.
“That doesn’t make it right,” Samantha answered without hesitation.
“I understand that, but what if we left him?”
“So what if we did?” she snapped. “We can’t become animals. If we do, we might as well just give up because then we should be dead, too.”
“Stop it. You don’t mean that.” Markus attempted consolation. “Besides, how many people did he kill before we found him? How many more if we left him? I’m sorry, Samantha, but Isabelle did the right thing.”
“Why don’t you go see if anyone needs help, Markus. I want to be alone.”
Rachel, Seth and Sam stood sentry near the center of the curve, a decent vantage point down both ends of the road. Most of the group had spread out, looting supplies from wherever they could or just stretching after so many hours cramped in a vehicle.
“Keep an eye on that place.” Sam referred to the collapsed house. “It’s in bad shape, but I can still imagine something crawling out of the woodwork.”
“If anything was in there, it’s probably a pancake by now,” said Rachel. “But yeah, I’ve got eyes on it.”
“We never should have taken these goddamn back roads to begin with. If we just stayed on the highway, it would have only taken us a few hours tops to get there,” Seth added.
“We can’t be sure of that, son. If the highway was clogged with abandoned vehicles, we would have had to turn around, anyway,” Sam suggested.
“Maybe. One thing’s for sure, though: we wouldn’t have come across that fucking cabin and Tobias and his boy would still be alive,” replied Seth adamantly.
“What happened to Tobias was no one’s fault. That old man was insane. There’s no way any of that could have been predicted. You’ll only drive yourself crazy dwelling on it, Seth.”
“Yeah, I know. It’s just I look at Izzy now and she’s a shadow of her former self. She’s broken, man. It’s as clear as day. I’ve known her a long time, Sam, and I’ve never seen her like this, even when her folks passed, and they were close. Real close.”
“It’s too much. All of it,” Rachel said. “The things we have to live with day in and day out. Now half her family’s gone, just like that.” She snapped her fingers. The sound startled Seth with a jump. “She’ll come around eventually. It’s going to be tough, but it’ll pass.”
“Let’s hope so, ’cause she’s all that girl’s got now,” Seth replied. “If it’s alright with you guys, I’m going to head back over to the diner, see what’s shaking.”
Radzinski took stock of who was left lingering about the vehicles. Most had already gone looting. A few, though, could be put to use. “You, you, and you, with me,” he ordered before making a beeline for the post office. “And for God’s sake, keep your weapons aimed at the ground. I don’t need the back of my head blown out by inexperienced yokels.”
“You heard the man. Let’s go,” Damon added, much to Isaac’s chagrin.
Isaac didn’t mind taking orders from the soldiers. As a matter of fact, he welcomed it. Their experience in tough situations was just what this group needed. Damon, on the other hand, who was he to be barking orders at anyone? Another time, he thought. Let’s just get this done.
Elliot was indifferent. He didn’t care who was in charge. They could all bark orders as far as he was concerned. It kept any real focus off of him.
Radzinski kicked in the door. It was dark inside. Not a surprise. He motioned to the shade-covered windows. Elliot yanked them down, flooding the place with much-needed light. Two creatures at the far end of the room were torn from a meal by the change in illumination. As fast as they stood, they were just as quickly back on the ground, permanently. Radzinski waved the trio of volunteers in deeper behind him.
Upstairs was clear, the sole closet bare, save for a half dozen neatly pressed postal uniforms. Maybe the postmaster lived here. No matter, as no one was here now. That was just as well. More mouths to feed and all. Radzinski peered out onto the street below. The second story’s northern corner room had an ideal vantage point over the front of the diner and a clear line of sight farther down the road past the sharp curve.
“Imma hit the head while we’re here,” Damon said. Halfway down the narrow hallway, he pulled open a door—the only one left that could have been a bathroom. He immediately slammed it shut. His back against the door, legs wedged into the wall. “Shit, there’s two of them in there!” he yelled as he fumbled for his gun that lay by his feet; he had dropped it in the commotion. “Someone shoot these fuckers!”
“On it.” Isaac lined up his rifle, waiting for Damon to release the door.
“Hold your fire. Stand down, Isaac,” Radzinski ordered.
“But they’re—” Elliot pointed at the crowded hallway.
“Yeah, man, what the fuck? I can’t sit he
re all day!” Damon shouted.
“Leave ’em. We’re not wasting rounds unless we have to.” Radzinski kicked a sturdy nightstand toward the hall. “Wedge this in there. Those things are too stupid to unlock the door, and if they somehow manage, they can’t push this furniture through that wall or break the door off its hinges. They’re not going anywhere.”
“You heard him. Bring that shit over here, damn,” Damon insisted.
Ayn and Vanessa were rummaging through an abandoned pickup. Strangely for Ayn, she noticed it had two missing tires. Why only take two? Whoever it was probably had to leave in a hurry, she thought, squinting against the high noon sun for trouble. Ayn was as thin as a rail, and baggy clothes could only conceal so much. Her delicate blonde hair would blow from her face, exposing bony cheeks. She would act quickly, pulling the locks back down over her face, hopeful to avoid prying eyes.
Vanessa couldn’t help but notice. Just one more sign that none of them were eating sufficiently, no matter what anyone said. “You getting enough to eat, Ayn?”
“I’m fine. I’ve always been skinny. Can’t pick up weight to save my life. Never could.”
“Okay, ’cause I might have something stashed away you’re more than welcome to.”
“Thanks, but really, I’m alright. Really.”
“Suit yourself. But if you change your mind, let me know.”
Ayn emptied the contents of the glove box onto the passenger seat. Nothing. She had already done the same for the trunk. She stood at the side of the car, tapping her palms against the roof and looking up and down the road.
“What is it?” Vanessa asked.
“I don’t know. You find it strange this is the third car we’ve gone through and haven’t found so much as a mint? Nothing useful at all.”
“Eh, not everyone keeps a bunch of crap in their car.”
“Maybe, I don’t know. I don’t like it. Something doesn’t feel right about this place.”
“Enough with that already!” Vanessa slammed her door shut. “Christ, every day you don’t like this, or that doesn’t feel right. Nothing feels right anymore, and you shouldn’t like any of it. Just stop it, please.”
“Sorry, I didn’t realize I should be fine with living on the road or watching people killed ten feet in front of my eyes. Selfish me.”
“I’m sorry. I’ve got a lot on my mind, too. I think we all do. It’s just… I want Lillian to know everything is going to be alright, but I wouldn’t know where to begin.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t be so sure about that.” Ayn gestured to Vanessa’s wedding ring. “You’re just as qualified as any of us to console the girl. Probably more so.”
Jeremiah and Markus were on fuel duty, the one task absolutely no one wanted but everyone save the pregnant Casandra was required to take part in. Bernie said he didn’t mind siphoning the fuel. He did it all the time when he was a kid. So what if a little got in your mouth? The medics thought better of that idea and spread the task out among the group. Less of a risk of Bernie getting sick drinking gasoline every day.
“Damn, man, couldn’t they have jumped out of a window or something?” Markus pondered.
“Excuse me?” Jeremiah asked.
“Tobias and his boy. How the hell did they get trapped in there, man? I mean, wouldn’t you risk running out the way you came in?”
“Ah, I see,” replied Jeremiah. “They would have become disoriented in the smoke and heat. Left becomes right. What looks like an exit is merely the next room deeper into the building. Situations play out similar to what transpired at the cabin more often than you know,” he explained cold and logically, the only way he knew how. If you didn’t know the man, he would certainly come across as unsympathetic.
“I’ll take your word for it, but damn, what a fucking waste.” Markus regretted even bringing it up. Talking about it out loud was far worse than he imagined. With no clear-cut idea of how to change the subject, he opted for walking away. “I’ll just take these back to the cars.” He picked up the fullest gas cans and began a light jog back to the caravan.
Nearly half of the group meandered about the diner, looting through what amounted to garbage for anything resembling supplies. Seth stood sentry near the entrance, one eye to the road. He wasn’t about to add another set of hands to the project. Besides, he figured most of them knew there was nothing of value left to find; they were just looking for something to do. It wasn’t long before the noise from the rummaging got to him. Enough of this, he thought while passing Marisol on his way out of the place. “They’ve got it covered in here. I’m just in the way. Hey, have you seen Isabelle?”
“I saw her about twenty minutes ago, over by the side of the building.” Marisol pointed to the right of the diner, back toward the vehicles.
“How did she look?”
“The same. Poor thing.”
“Well, I’m going to see if she’s ready to talk about it. I can’t stand to see her like this. Thanks, Marisol.”
“Yep, let me know if you need anything.”
Seth peeked around the corner of the diner. There she was, sitting in the dirt behind a row of shrubbery and playing with a decent-sized toad. She had her hands out on the ground, acting as miniature walls. The toad would hop to one side, she’d block him, and he’d hop the other way, just as trapped.
Seth slowly approached but was noisy enough to make himself known. The last thing he wanted was to startle her; she’d been through enough. “Hey, Izzy, what do you got there? A frog?” he asked, delicately.
No response. If she knew he was even there, she didn’t show it.
“I know things have been rough and you’re having a bad time of it. I just want you to know that I’m here for you. We all are. If you want, I can take you over and we can go talk to Lillian.”
Isabelle miscalculated her wall placement, and the toad hopped away. She quickly leaped after it, landing on her belly in the dirt, where she continued to lay, covering the small animal with domed hands.
“Dammit, Isabelle, talk to me, please,” Seth insisted.
Isabelle cupped the toad in her right hand as she rose to meet Seth. She placed her other hand on his cheek and lowered her gaze.
“That’s it, Izzy. Let it out. Everything’s going to be fine, girl. We both lost him,” he said, cautiously advancing for a hug. He began slowly with one arm around her at first. When she didn’t pull away, he hugged her properly with both arms and a gentle pat on her back. Isabelle lay her head on his shoulder, gazing upon his features. “Everything’s going to be okay,” he whispered.
Isabelle slid her arm up finally, stopping at his waist. Seth thought she was finally coming around. He continued with more words of encouragement as she began massaging his crotch. She hurriedly cupped his balls and slid her palm up and down the front of his pants, licking and sucking on his neck the whole time. Seth pushed her away, holding her at arm’s distance by her shoulders.
“Isabelle, what the hell are you doing?” Seth demanded.
“From what I could tell, I was doing exactly what you came back here for.”
“Oh, Izzy.” Seth sighed.
“Besides, I know you always wanted me. Don’t pretend you never saw me catch you checking me out, especially on those warm summer nights we’d have you over, in my barely-there shorts and shirt, leaning over and pouring you guys drinks. You loved every second of it.”
“Izzy, sweetheart, I really don’t know what you’re talking about. Toby was my best friend. I would never betray him like that. You know this.”
“You wanted to fuck me then. I know you want to fuck me still. Let’s do it right here in the dirt. I couldn’t care less who sees.” Isabelle pushed against his grip, trying to get closer. When that didn’t work, she reached out and grabbed his cock again.
This time Seth pushed her away, forcefully enough that she stumbled back a few feet. “That’s enough!” he shouted. “I don’t know what the fuck has gotten into you, but this ends now. You have a twenty-two-ye
ar-old daughter over there praying her mother comes back to her and you’re pulling this shit? How fucking selfish are you?”
Isabelle stood silent, hands to her side, staring at Seth without the slightest hint of emotion.
“So that’s it then? You’re shutting me out again?” he asked. “Fine. Until you come to your senses, I don’t want you near me anymore.” Seth turned and left. He waved his hands over his head only to bring them back down hard against his thighs.
Isabelle watched him turn the corner and go back to the front of the diner, never looking back. Her arms remained at her sides, right hand clenched in a tight fist. Blood seeped from between red fingers. The toad’s limbs twitched.
The small diner was devoid of even the most basic of supplies; looters had ransacked the place long ago. All that remained were plates of blackened, moldy food left behind by previous visitors.
Bernie kept coming back to an old plate of half-eaten meatloaf and potatoes. He poked the hardened baked potato with a fork but couldn’t pierce its solid shell. He fiddled with it for a moment, batting it from side to side like a cat playing with its prey. He finally lifted the potato and quickly took a bite. The stale food made a loud crunch as he bit down, and he immediately spat the filth out. “Oh God. That’s terrible,” he shouted in disgust, trying desperately to spit out every last piece.
“Well what did you think it would taste like, Bernie? Just look at it. I wouldn’t have tried that shit, and I’m eating for two,” Casandra said with a smile.
Bernie smiled back as he let the remaining chunks of potato drip from his mouth like he was a child. With a flip of his wrist, he sent the plate sailing down the countertop. It reached the edge and teetered for a moment before crashing down onto the floor. Casandra laughed as she joined in sliding plates down the surface. The dishes knocked into each other and spread stale food all over the countertop and floor.
The Roaming (Book 2): The Toll Page 12