After the End: Survival

by Stebbins, Dave

  "Now he's dead. I can't tell you why. And I can't tell you what happens next. I know there's some will tell you he's off to a better place, free of all the cares and troubles of life. Maybe they're right. I don't know. I've been acquainted with a lot of people who are dead now. Not a single one has left word with me about what happens after that great transition.

  "I've given it some thought. And I still don't have an answer.

  "I had no choice about coming into this world. But when I was born, it was to a mother that loved me, with an unconditional, all-encompassing kind of love. We call that mother-love, and there's nothing else like it in the world.

  "I can't help but think that the same God which brought us so lovingly into the world will to do any less for us when we leave it.

  "Our hearts go out to David's wife Yolanda, and his little daughter Desiree.

  "Goodbye, David. We'll see you later."

  It was quiet for a minute, and then the preacher went over to Yolanda and led her to the hole in the ground where the coffin lay. After a little hesitation, she picked up a handful of dirt and sprinkled it on the wooden box. Turning around, she took Desiree from the woman and held the child in a tight hug.

  One by one, everyone took a turn and threw some soil onto the coffin. Yolanda was murmuring softly to her daughter. Pete saw Sheriff Westlake standing over by a tree. He was in a quiet but heated conversation with a younger man Pete had never seen before. Rob was punctuating his remarks with a pointed index finger thumped against the man's chest. The other fellow was grinning, and shaking his head to indicate Westlake just didn't understand.

  Pete walked over toward the men.

  "Dammit," the sheriff said, "I've told you before to keep out of town. You're nothing but trouble, always have been. I've helped you for the last time. Clear out. I don't ever want to see your face again."

  "Now, Rob, just calm down. It's cool. I just wanted to pay my respects to an honest officer of the peace. There are so few of them."

  "You little piece of shit..."

  "Hey, Rob, got a minute?" Pete asked. He tried to sound offhand, even though it looked like the big man was ready to kill.

  The sheriff turned towards Pete and glared.

  "Pete, this is not a good time."

  "Pete? Is this Pete Wilson?" said the man. "I've heard so many great things about you. I'm Bobby Decker."

  The man extended his hand, and Pete shook it automatically, his mind spinning. In Decker's eyes and nose there was a strong resemblance to the Sheriff. Judy Gilliam approached the three men.

  "Pete, this is the man who brought in that half-drowned little boy to the clinic a couple days ago. Sir, you'll be glad to know he's doing fine. Still in the hospital in Amarillo, but he's recovering. I didn't have a chance to thank you for bringing him in."

  "Ma'am, that's very kind of you. I have to say I've always tried to be helpful, and that little fella really needed help. Glad to be of service." He touched the brim of his hat.

  Pete was dumbfounded. The guy seemed so normal.

  "You must be Bobby Decker!” Pete said, his voice cracking. “Formerly of Big Spring, Texas. I'll be darned. And I've heard so many things about you! Rob, you never told me you had a nephew."

  Both men turned towards Pete, staring at him like he'd grown a third eye.

  "Yessir. Bobby Decker. I've wanted to meet you for a long time. And I have to say, you're the first man I've ever met who's successfully buried a skeleton in his closet."

  "What the hell are you talking about," said Decker.

  "So tell me, Sheriff," said Pete. "Just how far will a man go to protect his family? Will he lie? Will he murder? Will he stand by and allow children to be tortured and killed?"

  Westlake continued to stare at Pete, and when he spoke, it was almost a whisper.

  "I wasn't sure it was him. I honestly didn't know until a couple days ago."

  "When you saw David Rodriguez in the Probation building matching fingerprints. And you shot him to hide the truth."

  "He drew on me first. I swear to God. This boy," he gestured over to Decker, "is my sister's son. He's all I've got left in the world. He's my namesake. You've got to understand, he's all that's left!"

  "Pretty poor pickin's," Pete said.

  "You can't say that about me," said Decker, shoving Pete's chest. "I don't have to take this shit from you."

  "It's over, Bobby," Westlake said resignedly. "We can fight it out in court. I've got a few friends there and there's very little evidence." He reached automatically behind his back and withdrew a pair of handcuffs.

  "You're going to arrest me?"

  "I've got to, Bobby."

  "Fuck that noise." Bobby simultaneously drew a squat revolver from under his shirt and grabbed Judy around the neck. He pointed the gun at her head.

  "This is a good time for all us to look at things reasonably. I haven't done a thing to anybody. And I sure as hell ain't going to jail. Not yours or anyone else's."

  "Bobby, put it down," said Westlake, reaching for his own gun.

  In one swift movement, Decker turned his revolver on Westlake, shooting him in the chest. The sheriff grunted once and went down like a sack of potatoes. He convulsed twice like he was going to throw up and then lay still, blood dribbling from a corner of his mouth.

  Decker returned the business end of his pistol to Judy’s head. He had taken the weapon away from her head for less than a second.

  "Boys, anyone else wanting to be a hero today's going to end up just like Uncle Robby. I want y'all to slowly drop your weapons and then ease on over to that open place on the other side of the grave. Nothing funny, now. You try and shoot me, you'll hit this pretty nurse instead and I'll still shoot you. Get your ass over there, too, Pete. Although I ought to shoot you on general principle."

  "Bobby, why don't you trade me for her,” Pete said. “I'll be able to keep up with you better. Most women have to pee about every ten minutes. She's going to slow you down."

  Men were slowly lowering their guns to the ground. The whole crowd moved to the clearing, never taking their eyes from the gunman and his hostage, afraid they might miss something. Judy stood stock still, almost numb with fear. She did feel some irritation with Pete's implication that a woman couldn't keep pace with a man, but at the same time realized Pete's gesture was a noble one.

  And she really did have a terribly strong urge to urinate.

  "I don't think so, Pete. Move it."

  Pete moved over with the rest of the group, feeling pretty useless. I blew it, he decided. I've screwed up this whole thing.

  "I'll bet that red SUV over there is yours, right?"

  Judy nodded.

  "Got lots of fuel in it?"

  The tank was three quarters full. She thought about lying, but figured it wouldn't make any difference. She nodded again.

  "Good. Let's go over to it. I'll let you drive."

  Walking to the car, Decker picked up a pistol from the ground. He used it to shoot a hole through the grills of the other half dozen vehicles parked along the road. Green puddles formed under the vehicles as coolant flowed from their radiators. He popped the magazine from the handle of the gun and slipped it in his pocket. Tossing the gun in some weeds he yelled out to the crowd.

  "You folks have a nice day. It's been a real pleasure making your acquaintance."

  They walked slowly to the car. Judy watched in amazement as Cathy Snyder suddenly broke from the group and ran toward them. Young and lithe, she was smiling at Decker, looking at him as though he were a long lost friend.

  Or lover.

  "Don't you remember me?" she said. "Us two, we wrestled." Her voice was coy, teasing.

  "Hell yes, I remember. You were real sweet. And you clobbered me with my own pipe. The one that got away."

  She gazed at him with upturned eyes.

  "Take me with you. Take me away from this place. I'll be nice to you."

  Decker looked her over, and grinned. Be nice to have some young stu
ff around. And this one liked it, he could tell.

  "When you've had the best, it's hard to accept anything less, right honey? Sure, you can come, but you've got to do like Daddy says, all the time, all right?"

  Cathy smiled and nodded. Judy felt like she was in the middle of a bad dream. How could this girl even stand to be near the man she claimed had abused her so terribly? Had she lied about the circumstances surrounding her assault?

  "Now then, nurse-lady, I want you to reach into your pocket and pull out your car keys so we’ll be all ready to go. Sweetie pie, I want you to go around and open the door."

  Pete had watched in disbelief as Cathy Snyder ran towards Bobby Decker and Judy.

  "Cathy!” her father had called out to her, but she ignored him, her long hair tossing side-to-side as she ran.

  The picture of innocence.

  Their voices were just murmurs, but the girl was smiling and Decker was smiling too, and then Judy reached into her pocket and pulled out some keys. Cathy took them and walked behind the gunman and his hostage. She reached back to her waistband and pulled out a small pistol that she held to the back of Decker's head. Pete heard a muffled pop and then Decker dropped down to his knees. Cathy fired again. Decker fell over sideways, quivered once and quit moving.

  Cathy broke the stunned silence.

  "That son of a bitch raped me."

  CHAPTER 28

  In the Texas Panhandle autumn arrives in November. It is not highlighted by changing leaves offering spectacular displays of color. Instead, it’s as though the trees reach a logical conclusion: it's Fall. Time to dump those damn leaves. From green to brown and off the trees, taking less than a week to complete the job.

  As though to compensate, the weather becomes particularly pleasant, with warm sunny days and cool crisp nights. Some mornings feature a ground cover of pure white when frost blankets the region. A few minutes of sunlight and frost transitions to a heavy dew. Livestock and wildlife forage on the still-green grasses.

  It’s a busy time. Most of the vegetables have been canned. Potatoes, carrots and onions have been stored in basements or in barrels buried underground. Cattle and hogs are slaughtered, the cool nights giving the hanging carcasses time to age.

  There's a lot of visiting among families this time of year. The men, often with beery breath, hoist the freshly killed animals from their hindquarters, steaming entrails falling to the ground.

  Amarillo's entertainment district is an area near I-40 and Georgia Street. The two brothels there are situated near each other at one edge of a former shopping center. The girls aren't allowed to solicit for customers. It is a matter of pride that they don't have to.

  The evening is warm and still. Business is a little slow and a few of the ladies are sitting outside on benches, gossiping and listening to music from a bar a couple doors away. The movie at the theater down the street has just ended and people are slowly exiting the double doors and walking into the night.

  "They got a pretty good crowd for a Sunday," said a brunette. A low cut white tank top displays ample breasts. One of her older regulars always calls her "June Cleavage." She guesses it's some kind of joke. He’s a nice old guy who mostly just wants to talk.

  "Yeah, it's Waterworld this weekend," says a frizzy blonde. "Have you seen it?"

  "Uh-huh. A long time ago. That one guy had a cute ass, but the story's kind of lame."

  "That's what I thought."

  The two fall silent. A couple emerges from the theater, their arms occasionally touching as they walk along the sidewalk.

  "What did you think of the movie?” Pete asks.

  "Which one?" Judy Gilliam, with a light shawl over her shoulders, was smiling. "The Bruce Lee short feature or Waterworld?"

  "Waterworld."

  "Oh, I don't know. Kevin Costner is kind of cute as a human ‘Flipper,’ but I thought the plot was a little weak."

  "Really? I thought there were a lot of similarities between that fictional reality and the present. OK, for example, you take..."

  "Hello, Dr. Wilson." It was the brunette. "Did you enjoy the movie?"

  "Yes. It was good. Thanks."

  They continue walking, silent for a moment.

  "You seem to have friends everywhere," Judy remarks.

  "It’s more like a business relationship. The city has Dr. Flood and me conducting physicals at the brothels. Once a month. The young ladies are city employees." He grins. "Jealous?"

  "Me? Hey, Mister, I've got the same equipment they've got. But we both know there's more to a relationship than a pair of warm bodies."

  Pete takes Judy's hand and they walk across the parking lot.

  "I saw Cathy Snyder in town with her parents yesterday," Pete says.

  "How's she doing?"

  "Pretty good, I think. Everybody sure is friendlier to her and her family."

  "She performed a real public service that day at the cemetery. I heard Brenda Farley is trying to get Cathy and her little girl to move into town. She wants to hire her as an assistant at the city office."

  "Grandpa might object. He loves that little grandbaby."

  Leaning against an abandoned car, they hold hands, and look into the sky. The stars are brilliant. The night is still. Judy turns and puts her arms around Pete, her face against his shoulder. Pete pulls her against him. He inhales deeply and her hair smells clean and fresh. His eyes stay focused on the sky.

  And life goes on.