Cannibal Country (Book 1): The Land Darkened

by Urban, Tony

  He shivered and shook his head, causing the bartender to laugh again. When Wyatt checked to see if his mother was experiencing similar distress, he instead discovered her unaffected and wondered what else he didn’t know about the woman with whom he’d lived his entire life. On second thought, some things were better off unknown.

  “You two need anything else, just holler for Doris.” She tapped her chest. “I’m Doris.”

  “I assumed as much,” Barbara said.

  Wyatt watched the woman as she moved down the bar and took an empty mug from the drunk with the spaghetti-strand hair. She was rough around the edges, but he liked her. When she disappeared through some saloon doors and into a back room, Wyatt returned his attention to his mother who sat with a smirk on her face.

  “Mom?”

  Barbara turned to him. “Yes, honey?”

  “What the hell was that?” he asked.

  She smiled and took a sip of water, but never answered.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Before Trooper visited the man they called Big Josh he parlayed the canned food he’d been given at the makeshift grocery store into four cans of beer. As far as plans went, this one barely registered half an ass, but it was all he had.

  The windows on the bank had been boarded over with sheets of plywood on the inside, turning an already gloomy building into a cavern. Cases of food were stacked four feet high in random rows, creating something of a maze which Trooper navigated, pushing Seth, careful not to topple anything over.

  Behind the half-wall which had one time separated the tellers from the customers, two men played a game of cards. One was a beanpole with a shock of red hair atop his pointy head. A cigarette hung on his lip like it was held in place with glue. The other man wasn’t as tall but made up for it in girth. He rapped his knuckles on the wall.

  “Hit me,” he said.

  Stretch tossed him a card.

  Trooper doubted either man seemed big enough to be Big Josh but had little interest in watching two thugs play poker so he cleared his throat. Both looked to him and Seth, their faces clouded by boredom and annoyance.

  “Sorry to interrupt your game, boys, but I was sent here to find Big Josh.”

  Stretch set his cards aside and stood. He looked tall sitting down but now he was basketball player height and Trooper noticed he’d taken on a stooped-over posture, probably because his head didn’t clear most doorways.

  “What’s your business with him, gramps?”

  “Looking to procure some firearms. Seems Big Josh is the man to see.”

  Stretch nodded. “Wait here.”

  He moved into a back room and Trooper waited. He noticed the other poker player sneak a peek at Stretch’s cards and his eyes grow wide. Then he sorted through the deck and slipped free two cards, trading them for two of his own. Some things never change, Trooper thought. No honor among thieves.

  Of course, he was about to become a thief too. Oftentimes, when he was on the job, he pondered the delicacy of the thin line that separated law-abiding from lawless. When you wore the badge, you told yourself there was only good and bad. White and black. You didn’t want to see shades of gray because a middle ground, a world where you had to admit that good people could do terrible things when circumstances demanded it, that complicated matters. But the world was gray and so were its people. That was truer now than ever.

  “Why’d you bring me along Troop?” Seth asked. Trooper had nearly forgotten the boy was there. “I’d think Wyatt would’ve been more helpful. You know, if shit goes down.”

  “I’m counting on shit not going down. Not yet, anyway.” Trooper looked down at his young friend. “Look, I love your brother. He’s a good kid. But sometimes he doesn’t get it. He still thinks the world should make sense and when it doesn’t, he gets flustered. I needed a level head and you’re the best choice for that.”

  Seth nodded. “Cool. At least I’m useful for something.”

  Trooper knelt down to Seth’s level. “You’re useful for so many things. You’re just as good as your brother, you’re just as good as me. Fact that you’re in a chair doesn’t mean a damn thing, you got that?”

  He watched Seth smile back at him, a Cheshire cat grin if he ever saw one. “I never knew you cared so much, Trooper.”

  Trooper licked his teeth and shook his head. The little bastard got him.

  Hinges groaned as the door to the backroom swung open. Stretch stepped through first, ducking. Behind emerged a fireplug of a man who didn’t top 5’5” but was wrapped in muscle. Trooper had seen the type many times before. Men who spent their waking hours pumping iron to compensate for what they lacked in height. His nickname - Big Josh - was most likely an inside joke to which he wasn’t party.

  Big Josh strutted toward them. He wore no shirt but had a holster and pistol on each hip. Trooper recognized the guns straight off because, until a short time ago, they’d been his. A large tattoo of a dragon filled Josh’s chest and it wasn’t half-bad. He stopped a few feet away from them and folded his arms across his broad chest.

  “Whatcha looking for, old-timer?”

  “You, apparently.” Trooper extended a hand Josh’s way, but the man didn’t reciprocate. “I’m Trooper. This is my friend Seth.”

  Josh nodded. “Two more in your party, right? Another boy and a woman?”

  “That’s correct. We’re traveling through from Maine. Ran into some bad luck and need to restock.”

  Josh pulled a chair away from a folding table, spun it backward and straddled it. “Sit.”

  Before Trooper did that, he turned to Seth who had the four cans of beer resting in his lap under a spare shirt. This was the tricky part.

  Being careful to keep himself between Josh and the beverages, he popped the tops, then opened a small pouch of crushed pills. During the course of exploring abandoned houses over the last half-decade, he’d built up a stash of opioids and narcotics that would make most dealers salivate. He only used the pills on especially bad days, days when the knee he’d blown out chasing a perp through the woods in Piscataquis County, felt like it was as useless as a second dick.

  Most of the potency had worn off over the years, but the night before he’d crushed up enough oxy, morphine, and codeine to send a small elephant to Never Never Land. Or so he hoped. The dissipating power of the drugs would, if his plan went as he expected, work to his benefit.

  He emptied the white powder into three of the cans of beer, then gave them a little shake as he took them from Seth and turned back to Big Josh.

  “For you and your colleagues.” Trooper handed Josh a beer, then motioned for Stretch and the card cheat to join in. The cheat took one but Stretch shook his head.

  “Don’t drink,” he said. “Sober since ought two.”

  “You’re a stronger man than I,” Trooper said as he took his spot at the table across from Josh. “Then this one’s yours too.” He pushed the unwanted can to Josh who only nodded.

  “Not a bad offer,” Josh said. He drank half of his first beer in a swallow. “I was in Maine once. Took one of those sightseeing boat tours out of Bar Harbor. Pretty place, I thought. Peaceful. Why’d you leave there for this shitheap?”

  “Winter’s are hard,” Trooper said. “Doubted we could make it through another.”

  Josh nodded and finished the beer. “How long you been traveling?”

  “Since the beginning of August.”

  Big Josh let loose a low whistle. “Hella long time on the road. You folks must be damned lucky. That or tough as fuck.”

  Trooper smirked. “Little of both if you ask me.”

  “How much further you going?

  Trooper was weary of the questions and wanted to get down to business, but knew playing along was the best option. “Far as our feet’ll take us. The woman has it in her head that we’ll get passed the equator and everything’ll be sunshine and roses.”

  The man grabbed the second can of beer but didn’t drink straight off. “I heard that one.
Load of shit. Whole world’s fucked. Better to settle in somewhere and ride it out to the end.”

  “Maybe,” Trooper said. It wasn’t like he hadn’t thought that himself many times before. “Maybe.”

  “So it’s guns you want?”

  “It is.”

  “Alright then. I got in a Walther P22 and a box of ammo the other day. Yours if you want it.”

  Trooper thought that a shit deal but didn’t say so. “I was hoping for something with a bit more stopping power. It’s rough out there.”

  “Like I don’t fucking know that.” Big Josh started on the new can. The cheat nursed his. “If that’s not suitable you can choose between a .38 special and a .32 acp. No negotiating. Take it or leave it.”

  “Now you’re talking,” Trooper said. It wasn’t a bad offer really, but he hadn’t risked their lives coming here for one gun. “I’ll take the .38 if you’ll toss in the .22 for this.” He held up his own undrunk beer.

  Big Josh considered it for a moment, then bobbed his head. “Hell, why not? You caught me in a good mood.” He turned to Stretch, motioned to the back room. Stretch went to retrieve the guns.

  “I’m curious,” Trooper said. “What would it take to get one of those Desert Eagles?” He motioned to the guns on Josh’s hips.

  Big Josh grinned. “You want this?” He took one of the .44s from its holster and dropped the magazine before handing it to Trooper. “That broad you came into town with, send her over here for the night. I promise I won’t beat her up too bad. Still leave you a hole to poke, although it’ll be a bit looser than before I got at her.” He cackled.

  Trooper tilted his head toward Seth. “This boy is her son.”

  “Is he now?” Josh leaned forward. “Hell then, he can watch. I’ll give him an education he’ll never forget!” He smacked the table, rattling the cans, then turned to the card cheat who laughed on cue.

  Trooper didn’t laugh. He handed the pistol back to Josh. “We’ll consider that.”

  Josh reinserted the magazine and returned the .44 to the empty holster. About that time Stretch returned with the two pistols and set them on the table. The .38 wasn’t bad. It was the snub nose model and wouldn’t be worth a shit at a distance but up close it would get the job done. The .22 was garbage. The barrel was covered in rust and the grip was duct-taped. Trooper thought it was as likely to explode upon pulling the trigger as it was to fire. But he kept his mouth shut because he had other, grander plans.

  “Good dealing with you.” Josh pushed the pistols, each with a single box of ammunition, across the table. “You think good about sending that broad over. Renting out some pussy for a gun like this is a hell of a deal if you ask me. And I bet the old gal’d enjoy a break from your limp noodle.” He cackled again.

  Trooper stood, shoving the .38 into his pocket and handing the .22 to Seth. “We’ll get back to you on that.”

  “Good man,” Josh said and finished off the second beer.

  Trooper’s face hardened as he spun Seth’s chair away from the men. He’d walked in here with mild reservations about robbing them. Now he looked forward to it.

  As they exited the building Seth peered up at him. “Trooper?”

  “Yeah?”

  “When we go through with this plan of yours, if things go south and we have to shoot our way out, will you let me kill that prick?”

  Trooper liked the boy’s spirit but not his eagerness. “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.” As sweet as vengeance tasted, he wanted no part of a gun battle. But like the song said, you can’t always get what you want.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Between the wretched odors inside the bar and the way the vodka was hitting, Wyatt needed some fresh air before he puked or passed out, or both. He left Barb and Supper at the bar and pushed out a side exit, sucking in big mouthfuls of air as soon as he was in the open.

  As he gathered himself, he noticed the thugs who’d earlier harassed his mother huddled in a pack one building down. He could hear excited, animalistic sounds coming from them, noises that reminded him of monkeys at the zoo.

  His curiosity got the better of him and he crept along the building, closing the distance until he could get a better look. When he did, he felt sick all over again.

  Allie, the pretty blonde who’d been so enamored with Supper upon their arrival was encircled by the group. Her crop top shirt had been torn away revealing mosquito bite breasts and a torso so emaciated he could count her ribs.

  “Give it back!” Allie reached toward one of the creeps and Wyatt saw him holding her shirt above his head, twirling it like a lasso.

  “Go ahead, take it from me. I won’t bite. Much!” He chomped his jaws for effect.

  Allie looked beyond the men. Wyatt followed her gaze and saw the flame-headed man who’d yelled at her earlier. He lounged against the side of a building and smoked, paying no attention to the goings on.

  “Come on, Pete!” She said to him. “This ain’t what we talked about.”

  Rather than help, Pete turned away from her.

  She tried to cover her naked chest with one hand and grab the shirt with the other. The effort was futile. The men whooped and hooted, like a cartload of chimpanzees. When she dove for the shirt, another of the group grabbed the waistband of her shorts and pulled her into him. He wrapped his bearish arms around her and ground his crotch against her ass.

  “Just like that, babe. Keep fighting. T-Bone likes it rough.”

  “Let go!” She stomped her foot down on the man’s toes.

  The self-proclaimed T-Bone squawked a startled yelp and loosened his grip enough for Allie to slip away. Her freedom was short-lived as a teenager with a mohawk grabbed a fistful of her dreadlocks. With his other hand, he groped her groin.

  Wyatt had seen enough.

  “Eight against one,” he said as he stepped into the open. “You sure are some real tough guys.”

  The gang looked his way, curious about the new arrival. The man who held Allie’s shirt, an ugly son of a bitch with a nose that had been broken so many times it looked like a hunk of meat stapled to his face, spoke first. “None of your business, pretty boy!”

  Wyatt knew that to be the truth. None of this had anything to do with him. Nothing to do with his family. Nothing to do with why they were here. But he wasn’t going to sit by and watch as these cretins gang-raped the woman.

  “Maybe I should make it my business.” Wyatt hoped that didn’t sound as cheesy out loud as it did in his head. He rested his hand on the grip of his pistol. He knew there were only four bullets. Not enough to get them all if they decided to bring the fight to him, but he hoped the insinuation would be enough.

  “You even know how to shoot that?” T-Bone asked.

  It was a test he needed to pass. Wyatt drew the gun and chambered a round, but kept the barrel pointed at the ground. Please, God, he thought, let them believe this bluff. “Seems like I do.”

  T-Bone and the nose exchanged a look but no words, like they were communicating telepathically. Then T-Bone turned to mohawk. “Let her go.”

  Mohawk did, but not before raking his hands across Allie’s breasts, leaving behind angry, red trails against her alabaster flesh. She slipped away and ran not to Wyatt, who’d saved her, but to Pete. She latched onto his arm like he was a life preserver.

  “We’re just fuckin’ around, kid,” T-Bone said. “You should try it sometime if you can dig the stick out of your ass.”

  Wyatt holstered the pistol. “I think I’ll pass.”

  “Your loss.” T-Bone and the others shuffled back toward the street. The man with the meat nose dropped Allie’s shirt on the ground, grinding his boot against it and mashing it into the mud. “Oops.”

  When they were gone Wyatt looked to Allie and Pete, the latter of whom looked pissed off rather than grateful. “Stupid prick,” Pete said.

  Wyatt held his palms up, confused.

  Pete shook his head. “That little rooster show of yours cost us five cans o
f food.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  Pete strode Wyatt’s way and, when he reached him, shoved him in the chest. “How the fuck do you think we survive? It ain’t on charm.”

  Wyatt looked at him, then to Allie who was digging through Pete’s satchel. She pulled out another crop top and slipped it on. It made sense now. And he was the dumbass, as usual.

  “Oh.”

  “Yeah. Oh.” Pete spat in his general direction but missed. “Fuck off, kid. Go be a hero somewhere else.”

  Pete returned to Allie and grabbed her hand, spinning her away as they moved toward the main street. Before they slipped out of sight, Allie glanced back and wagged her fingers in a half-hearted wave.

  Wyatt waved in return, even though she’d already looked away.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Night at the trading post was different from night on the road. Fiery torches lined the streets and cast their orange blaze onto the street and buildings. The other main difference was that it never became quiet. A constant flux of people loitered rather than slept. They drifted in and out of buildings and stores and bars like it was the middle of the day. Both of these circumstances complicated Trooper’s plan which depended on darkness and privacy.

  Nevertheless, he wasn’t going to let that change anything.

  The door to the Bank of Big Josh was ajar. Trooper looked to Wyatt who waited at his side, pistol in hand and ready to shoot should it come to that. Dear God, Trooper thought, don’t let it come to that.

  Ready? Trooper mouthed the word.

  Wyatt nodded.

  Trooper eased the door open, cringing as hinges groaned. He held his breath and kept pushing until there was a large enough gap to admit them.

  He heard no voices, no movement. All was silent inside the bank. Trooper exhaled. He pointed to himself. Me first. That was the plan they’d set, but he wanted to make sure that Wyatt didn’t charge ahead. On the chance that someone inside laid in wait to ambush them, he wanted to be first in the line of fire. This was his idea, after all. And the closer it got to coming to fruition the less he wanted to go through with it. But he wasn’t a man to leave things half done, so he stepped forward and into the bank.