by Jay Vielle
“Looks like it’s you and me in the finals again,” Jake said towards the big eye patch man. Eye patch roared aloud as he smashed the nearest check out rack, sending candy everywhere.
“I’m gonna kill you now, little man,” he said.
“Better be sure, big boy,” said Jake. “You only have one eye left.” With that the larger man roared again and swung violently at Jake’s head. Jake dropped before the bat could connect, then charged into the larger man with his shoulder before he could regain his balance. The big man toppled into a clothing rack and hit the ground. He spun quickly to his feet, bat in hand, and turned again towards Jake. He wielded it like a samurai sword and swung straight down. Jake side-stepped the swing and punched the big man in the eye patch. He hollered in pain, cursed, then gritted his teeth, re-gripped the bat, and turned one more time on Jake.
Lou looked at me, horrified. Jake had gotten in little shots, but the big man wasn’t fazed this time, and his fury was frightening. I had not noticed, but Estela had disappeared again. I scanned the room quickly but couldn’t take my eyes of Jake’s battle. The big man cocked the bat back as if swinging at a baseball, and Jake moved in closer when he did. The moment hung in the air. It couldn’t have been more than a second, but all I could think was Jake, why are you getting closer to him? Get away you idiot! But the big man swung, and as he did, Jake’s right hand went to his face, and his left reached out to catch the bat. He spun and blended with the swing almost perfectly, and the combined force of the huge man’s giant swing and Jake’s own strength pushing him in the same direction sent him sprawling violently with a thud. The big man’s head bounced hard twice off the floor hard, and he slumped.
Just then Estela reappeared with a shotgun in her hands.
“Okay pendejos,” she yelled. “On your feet. Everybody up. Time to leave.”
All four slowly stirred. The twin with the knife in his neck was whimpering. His brother was trying to mop the now dripping blood on a bandana. He shot daggers with his eyes at Jake and Estela. The large man with the eye patch and the smaller man who had brought the handgun were squinting and rubbing their necks. Estela pointed at the door with the barrel, and the four started walking towards the door. As they exited the store and climbed into the car, she shot the trunk. The men reacted, aware that the next shot would be at them.
“This is the second time you tried to come in my store. You will not live if there is a third time. Me entienden?”
The men drove off hurriedly, spinning wheels. Estela came back inside, exhaled, put her head on my shoulder, and started crying. I hugged her and took the shotgun from her. I let her cry for a bit, and realized that I was suddenly exhausted. Lou looked hollow. His eyes sagged, he was slumping and breathing fast and shallow. I looked around for Jake. He was sitting on a shelf, eyes closed, breathing hard, squinting hard, and looking like he was in pain.
“You okay?” I asked. He nodded back silently.
“Hurt?” He shook his head.
“Dark place?” I asked.
“Dark place,” he replied.
After another five minutes or so, each of us gathered our wits and started to go about the business we had come for. Lou grabbed the cart he’d filled earlier and Jake went back for his own. Estela took back her shotgun and thanked me.
“I can’t live like this,” she said.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“I can’t live here, trying to defend myself and this store every day against guys like that.”
“Do you have any family?” She shook her head and fought back new tears.
“Left them a few years ago to make it on my own. Here,” she said.
“So what are you going to do?” I asked her.
Estela turned toward the doors, looking out the only visible incoming light streaming in the store. She took a slow, panoramic turn. She glanced at the clothing racks, scanned the baby sections, moved her gaze past the shoes, the electronics, the toys. She took a deep breath in and turned her eyes on the pet section, then the pharmacy, the groceries. Then I saw her eyes go to the back of the store. The patio leading outside to the gardening section, and next to it the paint and hardware. And finally her eyes brought her to the sporting goods area where Jake was finishing up filling his cart.
She stared at Jake a while, watching him move. Jake moved slowly now, and with visible difficulty in some positions. His neck looked stiff, and he favored his shoulder. But his most obvious issue was his limp. He almost wobbled when he walked. It was more prominent now--after the fighting--than it was normally, I thought. Jake must have sensed us watching, for he looked up suddenly and saw us staring at him. He took a deep breath, straightened his back, puffed out his chest a little, then smiled an awkward smile back and started hobbling our way.
“Doesn’t look like I have much of a choice, it seems. I guess I’ll take you up on your offer. I’m going wherever El Tejón goes.”
“El Tejón? It was the word for ‘the badger.’ I squinted. “Who’s that?”
She looked at Jake, nodded, and said, “Him. I’m going wherever he goes.” Jake was walking back up pushing two carts end to end. He nodded to Estela. She grabbed one of the carts and meandered towards the exit. I grabbed my cart, Lou got his, and the four of us started walking back towards the high school, heavy laden with food, weapons, and camping supplies. Jake led, and walked about ten paces ahead of us. Lou brought up the rear. We didn’t speak for a while, then I turned to her.
“So, why do you call him ‘El Tejón?’”
Estela laughed a little, wiping away the last of her tears.
“Look at him,” she said. “He’s short, pudgy, waddles when he walks, a little grey at the temples. Seems like a nice guy. Kinda cute, even, for an older guy. Was nice to me when I met him. But it is obviously not a good idea to fuck with him. He didn’t hesitate at all to hurt those men. He would have killed them, too. I saw it in his eyes. He wouldn’t have given it a second thought.”
“Hell, he may have killed that one twin, depending on how deep that knife wound is.”
Estela bit her lip and raised her eyebrows.
“You’re right, though, you know,” I said. “He is a nice guy. But I’ve seen him kill before. It’s a little scary.”
Estela shook her head.
“I saw this thing on National Geographic once,” she said. “A badger was getting attacked by, like, three wolves in Yellowstone Park. I’m thinking the wolves are gonna eat him and fight over his corpse for dinner. He tries to just walk away, but they stay after him. I figured he was a goner, you know? But no way. Not at all. They’d go after him, he’d turn and fight. Go right after them. Bite them in the face and shit. Didn’t matter how many or how big, the badger fucked them up. By the time it was over, the wolves were bleeding and they all left him alone. That fight back there? It looked just like that. He’s El Tejón.”
I looked at Jake. She was right. Short and a little pudgy; he walked with a limp, and in his late forties was greying at the temples too. He wasn’t all that impressive to look at. I mean, he had muscles, and had obviously been an athlete at one time, but decades ago. There were bigger guys than Jake. Much bigger. More ripped. Faster. But there was something very predatory about him. Something that wasn’t swayed by imposing size, or numbers, or danger. Bigger guys and multiple attackers had approached him several times over the past couple of days, thinking him to be an easier target than he appeared. And in the end, Jake had torn all of them up. Just like a badger tears up coyotes, or wolves, or whatever goes after it. It keeps to itself and tries to avoid conflicts when it can. But when conflict is unavoidable, it violently assaults anything threatening it. Mercilessly, and without hesitation.
I chuckled out loud at the comparison. Jake was a nice guy too, like she said. He was even playful, at least around me. Badgers are supposed to be playful, I think. But Jake similarly had a very dark place he would go to when he needed to in order to come out on top of a scrap. I’d seen that pla
ce a couple of times in the past twenty-four hours, and it was a trifle unnerving. It was hard to wrap my head around the fact that he was both of those people. I’d known Jake for several years. He was nice. He was playful. He was a smart-ass. He was very intelligent. He didn’t have a bigoted bone in his body. I admired him for all those reasons.
In general, put up with a lot of shit, being Hispanic in a very white part of the state. I put up with even more shit being gay in a very red-neckish part of the state. Nasty whispers of ignorant people. Side looks from countless straight white people looking down their noses at me. Folks that smile in my face and talk behind my back. Jake never did that. He joked with me a lot. To hear him you might not know that he wasn’t that same kind of ignorant, but knowing him as I do, I appreciate his comfort with me as a person.
I decided that Estela was right about Jake being El Tejón, especially about the safest place to be these days was as close to him as we could get. I also noticed that she seemed like a pretty observant girl, especially for someone who had been under siege for several days and was forced to fight for her life while befriending strangers whom she had little reason to trust. Yet trust us she did—perhaps facing no better options—and now she would join the thirty-some people waiting at Hunter’s Run High School for whatever life would throw at us next. She would make a nice addition to our group. I like observant, intelligent people. I’m not much for the mindless knuckle dragging crew. I think that’s why I took to Estela so quickly, and why I admired Jake as much as I did. And now that Estela was around, it was somebody else to speak Spanish with too. It’s always nice to talk about somebody right in front of them and they don’t know what you’re saying. Not particularly polite, of course, but fun nonetheless. And being a quick study, she had learned maybe the most valuable lesson quickly. The same one I had learned after the Cataclysm. It’s safer to walk closer to wherever El Tejón walked.
So with that in mind, we all walked with him, pushing carts back to Hunter’s Run High School, where thirty six people huddled in dread of the unknown. Me, Jake, Lou, and Estela—all our heads on swivels at this point, pushed the carts up the mild slope to the school parking lot and into the building where our fellow survivors waited. Survivors with little in common, but all sharing the benefits of a group collecting together for the common goal of making it to the next day, and the next day after that.
But something told me that our cozy little group that had survived together was about to implode.
CHAPTER 7
“Holy cow—you guys hit the jackpot,” said Wes, as we rolled up with our carts. “You got everything. Including a new…person?” He was staring at Estela, who looked very uncomfortable walking up to the school.
“This is Estela,” I said. “She helped us get all of this stuff.”
“Where’d she get it all?” asked Wes.
“Wal-Mart,” I answered back. “Where else?”
“So, she stole it,” said Wes.
“She didn’t steal it. She’s the manager. Or was,” I said.
“The manager?
“Oversimplification, but yes,” I answered. Wes visibly sneered. He then turned to Mark Longaberger who matched the sneer.
“So, she gave you all this stuff?” Wes said with another sneer.
“Donated,” said Estela.
“Donated, huh,” said Wes.
“Sí. To your…cause,” said Estela.
“I was afraid of that,” he said.
“Afraid of what?” I asked, overdramatizing my face a bit.
“You’re no better than common thieves,” said Wes.
“Whoa, wait a minute,” I said.
“You just took anything you wanted from that store?” said Mark. “What would you call it?”
I stared at Estela, then at Lou. She and I were both wide-eyed, yet each of us had to look guilty. I didn’t have another name for it. We did steal it all. Somehow the moniker didn’t feel right. We weren’t common thugs, like the people we fought against. We were different. Weren’t we?
“Did you use a weapon to take that from someone?” asked Wes.
“No. Well, not exactly,” I stammered.
“Not exactly?” yelled Mark. “What’s that supposed to mean? Did you commit armed robbery?”
“No, no. That’s ridiculous. Estela here donated all of this stuff. We just had to defend ourselves from real thieves,” I said. It didn’t sound right to me even though I said it out loud.
“Espera un momento,” Estela said. “Just wait a minute.”
“Let me guess, Miss. You’re Mexican?” said Wes.
“Sí. What does that have to do with anything?” she asked. Wes shot a knowing look at Mark. I wanted to take a swing at both of them. Where was Jake? Why wasn’t he talking. I looked over at him and he was staring down at the floor.
“So, a pair of Mexicans robbed the Wal-Mart. And you two rode shotgun?” asked Wes.
“I’m not Mexican, you dick,” I shouted.
“What’s wrong with being Mexican?” asked Estela.
“Nothing. But Wes, it wasn’t like that,” said Lou. “We were attacked.”
“By people who wanted their stuff? Or maybe didn’t want you hogging it all for yourselves?”
“No, no, these guys were thugs,” said Lou.
“What made them thugs, Lou? Did they take anything?” Lou winced and shook his head. He was still reeling from his experience and wasn’t stable enough to handle Wes’ barrage of questions.
“No? So, you held off people who tried to keep you from robbing the store using weapons. Have I got that right, Eduardo? And then you beat feet and hustled up here to stow your stuff? Do you think you’re Robin Hood or something? What makes you think we want your ill-gotten gains?”
“Ill-gotten gains?” I said.
“I’m not surprised,” said Mark.
“At what?” I braced up against Longaberger chest to chest. I was infuriated.
“That you’d lower yourself to that level. That you’d stoop to that kind of thing. They say that people show their true colors in times of duress. You’re no better than the people who attacked the Heffners.”
“What?” I was incredulous. I looked around at the faces of the people who had walked up as we approached. Most of them matched Wes’s.
“The Heffners—whom you wanted to lock out, as I recall. “
“That was when we feared radioactivity. I never lacked empathy for them. They were victims. So, whom did you victimize to get all of that stuff?”
I looked around at the crowd, now gathering. They all had the same judgmental look on their faces. I gathered Wes had been working on them while we were gone, trying to gain their support against us for some reason.
I felt my blood start to boil, but couldn’t think of what to say to Wes.
“We can’t allow ourselves to become animals, no matter what our original cultures influence us to do,” said Wes. “I’ve been talking to the others. They agree with me.”
Lou was practically crying again. He couldn’t talk. He looked on the verge of a breakdown. I looked at the others. Most of them were looking at the ground.
“Jesus, Wes,” shouted Maureen. “What do you mean original cultures? What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”
“You know very well what that means,” Wes said. “You just don’t want to admit I’m right.”
Estela looked confused. She turned to look at me, wondering perhaps if I had set her up for this, but upon seeing my face she knew I was as surprised as she was. I looked around and saw Mark Longaberger and some of the others staring me down.
“We are Christians. Maybe you aren’t, Eduardo. I mean, you’re gay for God’s sake, so you couldn’t be Christian,” said Wes. “If this is the Apocalypse, we are going to make our world into a better place, not one filled with animals. God says that the righteous will be taken up when Armageddon comes.”
I looked at Estela. Her face was blank. Her jaw was on the floor. I turned to Lou. He was
staring at the ground. Then Jake finally looked up.
“Wes, that’s enough,” said Jake.
“God says,” Wes started. Jake grabbed him by the collar.
“If you want to meet God right now, say one more word,” said Jake. His eyes were cold and murderous. Melanie Richmond walked up to Jake and put her hand on his arm.
“Jake, take it easy. Lou, are you okay? Can you tell us what happened?”
Lou composed himself, wiped some tears and snot away from his face, and looked up at Melanie.
“We went in to take stuff from the Wal-Mart, but this gang showed up with a gun. The girl, she is Mexican, she had shot at them before we got there, and drove them off, and they were mad. They came back for revenge. But Jake fought them. He stabbed one and beat up a couple others. Then she pulled a shotgun on them and they left.”
Mouths dropped, and a couple of gasps ensued. Melanie Richmond and Robin Eaves looked afraid. Even Al DeFillipo looked a little unnerved. Wes Kent looked smug and self-righteous.
“Well, Eddie. Is that the way it happened?” Wes asked.
“Yes,” I said.
“Well, Jake, it seems you think all problems are solved by violence,” Wes said, looking Jake in the face.
I’ll give Wes credit—he wasn’t backing down from Jake. The look on Jake’s face was cold rage. He was my friend, and frankly that look scared the shit out of me. I looked around at the people in the room, fixated on Jake Fisher with his fist balled up around Wes’ collar. Some of the kids looked scared. I don’t know how I must have looked. Inside I was enraged. Wes had spun this thing while we were gone, maybe to reestablish some kind of leadership position and erode confidence in Jake.
It was working. Melanie laid her hands gently on Jake’s arm.
“Jake, let him go,” she said softly. “Let him go.”
Jake unballed his fist. It looked cramped, and the shirt slowly unwrinkled. Wes turned to the crowd.
“You see now, don’t you? It’s just as I said. He’s become unhinged. Jake Fisher and anyone who is around him. They are stealing, fighting gangs, committing murder. And that’s only in the first few days. God knows what’s coming next. Is this how you want to live? Is it?” said Wes.