by Urban, Tony
He said nothing right off, but after a few minutes of watching the man stare in silence, his curiosity got the best of him. “What’s so interesting?”
“Not sure yet. Maybe nothing. Maybe something.”
“Way to be specific, Trooper,” Seth said. “You’re a riddle wrapped in a mystery wrapped in an enigma.”
Trooper threw a side-eyed glance his way. “And you’re a shithead.”
Wyatt enjoyed seeing his brother get cut down and didn’t bother holding back a laugh, but he too kept watching the road, even if he didn’t know what he was looking for.
Barbara grabbed the pot and poured herself a half cup of tea. “Anyone want to finish it off?” None of the men responded, so she filled her mug and set the empty pot aside. She dipped one of the crackers in the tea and let it saturate, but peer pressure was getting the best of her and she too kept looking behind them.
Seth sighed and scooted across the road until he reached Trooper’s packs. He rummaged through them until he found what he wanted - binoculars.
“I swear, I’m the only one in this quartet with a brain.”
Wyatt watched as Seth raised the binoculars to his eyes and peered through them. “Well?” Wyatt asked.
Seth lowered the glass. “Two people. A man and woman.”
Wyatt thought he’d heard wrong. After weeks on the road, he’d almost given up finding other survivors. “Bullshit.”
“Check for yourself.” Seth extended the binoculars but when Wyatt reached for them he jerked them away at the last second.
Now Wyatt was sure his brother was pranking him and he didn’t appreciate it. “Screw off.” He grabbed his pack, ready to get a head start and put some distance between himself and Seth but he only took four steps before Trooper’s voice stopped him cold.
“He’s right.”
Wyatt turned back to the others. He expected to find Trooper holding the binoculars but the old man had no visual aides. “How do you know?”
“I’m observant. Unlike the rest of you.” He stood, sighing as his knee gave a firecracker pop. “They’ve been following us for two days now. This is the closest they’ve got.”
Barbara scrambled to her feet, dropping the remains of her soggy cracker. She grabbed the binoculars and searched the road. “And you didn’t say anything?”
Trooper twisted at the waist, stretched, and Wyatt noticed that while he did that he also unbuttoned the leather strap that secured his pistol to the holster at his side. “Saw no sense in causing a panic.”
“They could have snuck into camp and slit our throats while we slept!” Barbara pushed Seth’s chair nearer to him. “Get up.”
He obeyed wordlessly and Wyatt saw from the look his mother’s anxiety was catching.
“We ain’t been in no danger,” Trooper said. “Not yet anyway.”
The foursome waited in place as the man and woman on the road grew near enough to see, then closer and closer. When they were forty yards away, the man called out.
“Hiya, strangers!”
He raised his arm in a wave and Trooper drew his pistol but kept the barrel pointed at the ground. Wyatt knew if the couple made one wrong move, it would be their last.
Wyatt thought standing there, silent, could be construed as not just rude but possibly threatening and the last thing he wanted was a reenactment of the Gunfight at the OK Corral over a misunderstanding.
“Hello,” he risked.
The others looked at him like he was a traitor. “What? I just said ‘hi.’”
“We don’t know who they are.” Barbara’s hands were on the handles of Seth’s wheelchair as if she were ready to sprint away, pushing him along for the ride, at the first sign of trouble. Wyatt couldn’t imagine them getting far if shit did go down.
“Exactly,” Wyatt said. “We don’t know who they are. They could be good people, like us. And isn’t that half the reason we left Maine? To find people? Something resembling civilization?”
The people were within ten yards now, close enough to begin to see details. The man looked to be in his mid-twenties and wore a tan, western-style duster that was too long and dragged on the ground as he walked. The woman traveling with him wasn’t a woman at all. She was a girl, younger than both Morrill boys. Wyatt thought she looked no more than fourteen in the face but her distended belly, which bulged with a baby inside, made him think - or hope - she must be older.
“I’ll be dipped in shit,” the man said. “Just the other day I bet June we wouldn’t see any people until we got to Tennessee.” He turned to her and grinned. “Never been so happy to be wrong.”
The girl poked him in the ribs. “You owe me a foot rub.”
“That I do.”
They were just a few yards out and the man noticed Trooper’s drawn gun. He lost his smile and quickly held his palms in the air. “Whoa, no need for that. I promise we ain’t got nothing on us more dangerous than a rusty fork and so long as you got your tetanus shots you’re safe.”
“What do you want?” Trooper asked.
The two exchanged looks, then returned their focus forward. “I don’t rightly know,” the man said. “Nothing really. We was just happy to see people.”
“Might be for the best if you keep looking somewhere else.” Trooper still held his pistol at the ready. “We aren’t interested in adding numbers to our party.”
Wyatt knew sending them on their way was the smart thing to do, but the girl, June, looked on the verge of tears. He wasn’t sure if it was fear or disappointment over being rejected, but her pitiful face, which was covered in girlish freckles that made him think of Pippi Longstocking, coupled with her wildly out-of-place pregnancy, made him feel like the world’s biggest heel.
The man stared down at his feet. “Oh. Alright then.”
Wyatt thought he might have been off on his age. His face was long and horsey, but had the plain, wide open innocence of a farm boy and Wyatt suspected he was no more than a year or two older than himself.
He risked a glance up, avoiding Trooper and shining his big, hazel eyes at the others, hoping to find a more receptive audience. “I understand that. But before we get on with the getting on, let me give you something. Just our way of saying ‘thanks for not shooting us,’ I guess.”
He shrugged his pack off his shoulders and let it fall to the road. Then, with great caution he knelt beside it, keeping his eyes on Trooper, and Trooper’s gun, all the while. “I mean it, sir, we don’t got no weapons.”
As he unzipped the bag, Wyatt saw Trooper’s finger slide onto the pistol’s trigger and begin to squeeze. He must have two pounds on it already, Wyatt thought. If the guy tried anything, Trooper’d have a bullet in him before he could blink.
His hands dug through the bag and emerged with not a weapon, but a package of what looked like food. He raised it up, displaying it to the quartet. “See.”
Trooper’s finger left the trigger. “Toss it over.”
The man did, lobbing it to Seth who snagged it with his left hand. “Good catch. You a southpaw?”
Seth nodded.
“My daddy was too.”
Seth examined the pouch. “Mountain House biscuits and gravy. Freeze-dried.”
“All you need’s water.” The man tried a smile and half-succeeded. “Now if you want to eat it alone, I understand and we’ll move on.”
The twosome stared in a way that made Wyatt think of the ASPCA commercials with the neglected and abused animals staring plaintively at the camera. How could they send these two off into the vast nothingness without at least giving them a chance?
“We’ve got a pot of water on the fire,” Wyatt said. “Sit and eat with us and we’ll see how it goes.”
He saw Trooper stiffen, and he knew the man would chew him to pieces later when they were alone, but he also realized it was time he started acting like a man and that meant making decisions on his own.
The man’s name was Devan and the girl, his sister, was June. They’d been on the road for
a month. They hoped to reach Tennessee before the girl gave birth.
“Our daddy and his second wife, they got a place just east of Clarksville. Little town called Adams,” Devan said. “We never got along the best, but family’s family, right?”
Devan did most of the talking, spilling a good portion of their life stories before the biscuits and gravy were consumed. Wyatt’s group didn’t share much more than their starting point in Portland and a few bits and pieces about the monotony of the road.
Trooper hadn’t said a word until, “Are you gonna admit to tailing us?”
Devan’s eyes grew so wide Wyatt half-expected them to tumble free of their sockets. “Oh, shit, sir, I’m sorry about that. It’s just, with June’s condition, I wanted to make sure you looked like good people before we introduced ourselves. I wasn’t trying to be sneaky, I promise.”
“Tell me, son, what convinced you were we good people?” Trooper asked, his face a mask void of emotion.
“It’s gonna sound kind of silly,” Devan said.
“Try us.”
“Well, yesterday we saw you folks eating breakfast at the scenic overlook. Sitting at the picnic tables. Like you was just a regular family out camping for the weekend. And when you was done eating, we saw you.” He pointed to Wyatt. “Gather up the garbage and put it in one of the trash cans.”
Wyatt vaguely remembered that but didn’t know why it had made any sort of impression, let alone convinced these people that he and his group weren’t the types to roast people over open fires.
“And I thought,” Devan said. “Bad people wouldn’t do that. Put their trash in a bin. Not with everything all gone to shit. Only a good person does something like that. A person that thinks there might still be a reason to keep the world looking nice and pretty.”
Devan half-turned to June and smiled. “That’s when I knew I could trust you. Trust you not to hurt my sister. And me too for that matter.”
He laughed a nervous, rapid-fire rat-a-tat sound. “Like I said, silly.”
Wyatt didn’t think it was silly. Not at all. He realized that, even if they were hundreds and hundreds of miles from Mexico, this trip had already yielded rewards. For the first time since leaving his home, he felt like they’d made the right decision.
Chapter Fourteen
Trooper and Barbara both pushed shopping carts and brought up the rear of the newly expanded group. Devan, hadn’t shut up for more than thirty seconds at a stretch and Trooper was already tired of the sound of his voice. He considered tearing apart a handkerchief and shoving the remnants into his ear canals, but knew plugging up one of his senses was a bad idea so he tried, with little success, to tune Devan out and hope that, sooner or later, he got tired of talking.
“The Finger Lakes region, that’s where all the frou-frou people get together to drink wine and relax in the countryside, that was a jackpot,” Devan said. “That’s where we got all that freeze-dried stuff.”
“And wine,” June added with a giggle.
Devan blushed a shade Trooper thought was about the color of a good glass of pinot noir. “Yeah, that too.”
“He drank so much one night he pissed all over hisself and then asked me when it started raining,” June said.
“What can I say, it was tasty.” Devan nodded toward Seth in his chair. This was a hilly area and Wyatt had been pushing for the last several miles. “Let me take a turn there, hoss.”
Trooper could tell Wyatt was tired by the way he hunched his back over the handles.
“You don’t have to.”
“I know. I want to.”
Wyatt let Devan slide into his place and arched his lower back.
Seth tilted his head backward and stared up at his new assistant. “So no one had been through and raided the place?”
“Nope. I guess they stuck more to the cities, Rochester and Syracuse and stuff. All those fancy lake houses were untouched. We stayed there for a couple weeks.”
“He was drunk for a couple weeks is what he means.” June giggled again.
“That too.” Devan leaned toward June and smacked her on the butt with his palm. “But I wasn’t the only one.”
Barbara threw a glance at Trooper and raised her eyebrow. He was sad to see the expression highlighted her scars. It was ninety percent healed now, no oozing pus, no lingering scabs. But the wound had pulled tight as it healed and the side of her face was a jarring Halloween mask of angry purple tissue that had little malleability. He knew it could have been worse, but it was bad enough.
She slid close to him. “Think I ought to tell them she shouldn’t be drinking while pregnant?”
“People got a right to make their own mistakes.”
“Seems unfair to the baby inside her. It never had a choice.”
Trooper shrugged. He thought the very idea of bringing a baby into this world was as dumb as dumb gets. Even if it didn’t have a teenage rube for a mother, what chance would it have of surviving long enough to learn how to walk? He supposed the odds were about as good as himself making it to the age of 100.
“You’re the mother in the group,” Trooper said to Barbara. “You want to share some maternal advice, I’m not gonna protest.”
Barbara considered it, but decided not to speak up. At least, not now.
Devan’s voice, which he’d grown to equate to fingernails on a chalkboard, drowned out all other thought.
“The best part, aside from the wine, was what we found in a little, green A-frame. Bet ya can’t guess what it was. Go ahead and try.”
Trooper wished it had been a gag, but didn’t tender that guess.
“Gold coins,” Wyatt said. “A bag full of them.”
“Nope. Try again.”
“Bacon.” Seth licked his lips at the thought.
“Nah.” Devan looked back to the stragglers. “Barb. Trooper. You want to guess?”
Trooper chewed the inside of his cheek to prevent a rude comeback.
“That diamond necklace June’s wearing,” Barbara said. “I know that didn’t come out of a gumball machine.”
Everyone looked to the jewelry that decorated the teen, a necklace that would have looked more fitting on a Hollywood actress at an award show.
Devin grinned. “Nah. That was her gramma’s.”
Trooper’s ears perked up and this time, no matter how hard he chewed his cheek, he couldn’t remain quiet. “Your gramma’s, you mean. You being siblings, that is.”
Devan’s aw shucks smile never faltered. “No, just hers. We got the same daddy but different ma’s.” He checked each member of the group. “I knew y’all wouldn’t get it. Want me to tell you?”
I want you to shut your hick mouth, Trooper thought.
“Alright then, I’ll tell you. It was a case, not just a box, a whole darn case, of Hostess cupcakes!”
“No way,” Wyatt said.
“Yes, way! Here, take your brother.”
They traded places and Devan slipped his backpack around to his front and unzipped it. He extracted two plastic-wrapped cupcakes and handed one to Seth.
“Holy shit. I haven’t had one of these in like three years. Mom, look.” He held the cupcake up for everyone to see. Even from a few yards back Trooper noticed the signature looping white swirls on the top icing.
Devan pulled his arm back like a QB going deep and threw a cupcake to Barb then returned to his pack. “I was kinda a pig and ate a ton of ‘em but we got five left. That’s one for each of you and June.”
Devan lobbed a cupcake Trooper’s way and as much as he didn’t want to like the man, just the sight of the pastry flooded his mouth with saliva. He felt the crinkle of the plastic in his hand and, even though the food inside was doubtlessly stale, couldn’t wait to dig in.
June took a cupcake from her brother, then Devan handed the last one to Wyatt who looked from his gift to the man who’d given it to him.
“We can’t eat these and leave you with nothing,” Wyatt said. “Let’s split it.”
&n
bsp; Devan shook his head. “No way, hoss. I’m sick of em if you want to know the truth. And it’s my way of thanking you from saving me from listening to June talk about boy bands and make up for a few hundred miles.”
Trooper unwrapped his cupcake and took a huge bite. The sugar rush was almost intoxicating and reminded him of days before this. Mornings at the station, sharing pastries with his fellow officers. Evening snacks with his mother, who was always trying out new recipes on him. It reminded him of home and for that, he was grateful.
He watched Wyatt chomp into his cupcake. Cream clung to his upper lip, entangled in the straggly mustache that had sprouted during the trip. June pointed and giggled. Even Trooper managed a smile. It was amazing what a little good food could do for a person’s mood.
Chapter Fifteen
After a day of walking the group came upon a Shell gas station that was in the midst of a long decline at the side of the road. Wyatt thought it looked as if it had been abandoned for decades and when he noticed the price of gas on the manual pumps was only $1.89 his suspicions were confirmed.
That didn’t matter though. All any of them cared about was having a place to sit and get off their feet and the station was as good as anywhere for that purpose. An added bonus was the concrete floor which allowed them to build a small fire and cook up another pouch of Devan and June’s freeze-dried food. The night’s entrée was a chicken fajita bowl which Wyatt thought had more flavor than anything he’d eaten in years.
June leaned back and let out a soft moan, rubbing her belly.
“Eat too much?” Devan asked her.
“Naw. The baby’s kicking at my guts like they’re a soccer ball.”
Wyatt noticed his mother perk up.
“How far along are you?” Barb asked.
June shrugged her shoulders. “Don’t know, really. It’s been since February that I had my flow though.”
Barbara leaned in close to the girl and extended her hand toward June’s midsection. June nodded and Barbara rested her palm on her stomach. She flinched a little and smiled.