Pax swallowed hard again, debating on his next words. They seemed to come out anyway. "Doesn't explain why nobody circled back, though." He grimaced at the sound of them.
Guthrie turned his attention back to Pax and licked his lips with a smile. "Oh, so now you wanna say I should have double backed." Pax was ready for the full force of Guthrie to come at him. He watched the man in front of him and saw his demeanor change. "Maybe that's true. But I had no way of knowing what happened, and the best bet was to get to safety and check back in the morning. You said it yourself, it was getting late and being stuck in the city at night was suicide, although you seemed to have fared well." Pax smiled when Guthrie squeezed his shoulder. "Now then, who's this asshole?"
"Diego," Diego said before giving Pax a chance to speak. He held his head high, showing no signs of submission.
Guthrie smiled at Diego. "If you didn't notice," Guthrie punched Diego in the gut, causing him to buckled over. "I was talking to Pax, here."
Diego got up and stared Guthrie down. "I guess you've met Diego now," Pax said.
"So, this the guy that pulled you from the truck?"
Pax nodded.
"Then, what's he still doing alive? Sure, got you out, but now what? I heard Billy suggest we gut him, which isn't a bad idea."
Diego lifted his chin up again, fright far from his mind, at least not showing on his face. "I was thinking we keep him alive," Pax said. "You still wanna hit the hospital, right?"
"I don't see why we wouldn't."
"So, use him. Either he shows you how to get in their walls, or he gets his men to back down. Either way, you're in, and if it doesn't work out, you can kill him. You were right about that place, Guthrie. A bunch of lowlifes settling down in there. Nothing but a bunch of gangbangers."
Diego spit on the floor. "You think they'd let you in just for one man? The leader wouldn't stand for that. Besides, what's the end game if they do? You think they'll all just roll over?"
Guthrie smiled at Diego but ignored his words. "Goddammit, Pax. I thank God every day that Billy was too much of a pussy to kill you."
Pax flinched at the mention of God. He had questioned a lot of things about himself since losing Stacey, but he hadn't thought about God ever since. "Let's just leave it at that. Gag the fucker."
He shoved Diego ahead, and Guthrie grabbed him and looked to Reggie. "Reggie, get the fuck over here and help these guys out."
Reggie wheezed heavily as he got up and hobbled over. He looked worse than when Pax saw him last. "Why can't Sean or Walt do it?"
Guthrie spun around and looked at Reggie. "Maybe if you didn't lose Pax, you could kick back and relax. Walt didn't lose Pax, Sean didn't bail on him. You're lucky he was so generous to say you didn't fuck him over." He shoved Diego to Reggie.
Reggie caught him but stumbled backward when he did. Mark helped steady his friend. Reggie's jacket sleeve hiked up his arm, revealing a bloody cloth wrapped around it. "What the fuck is that?" Mark asked.
Reggie's eyes went wide in panic. He quickly covered up the wound with his jacket sleeve. "Nothing, I cut myself."
"No, no, no, no. Reg man, what happened?" Mark asked, truly worried about his friend.
"Shut the fuck up and mind your own business."
"Holy shit, you're bit. You're fuckin' bit, ain't ya?" Billy asked, backing up like he had some kind of infectious disease.
"Goddammit, shut up," Reggie back into a stack of boxes, trying to get away from them.
"He's bit, Guth. Reggie's bit," Billy screamed.
Guthrie stepped up to Reggie while Mark and Billy held Diego. Reggie cowered from Guthrie. Pax watched it all from the side of the room. "That true, Reg?"
"Just leave me alone. I didn't ask for this, I didn't ask for any of it."
Guthrie grabbed Reggie's arm and pulled back the jacket and stripped the bloody towel off his arm. Blood ran from the open wound. There was a large chunk of meat missing from his arm and it was in the shape of teeth marks. "Fuck, Reg," Guthrie let out in a loud exhale.
Guthrie pulled his gun out and put it to Reggie's head. He pulled the trigger before anyone else could say a word. To Pax, it almost seemed like slow motion. The gun went off, a spark flying out of the barrel. The bullet hit Reggie in the head and blew the back of his skull out. Brains and blood splattered against the boxes. Reggie dropped to the floor in a mess of his own blood. Guthrie holstered his gun and looked up.
"He was a dead man walking. Except he decided to hide it. He could have turned any moment and anyone of us, or all of us for that matter, could be dead because of it."
Everyone stood in silence. Pax looked at Diego, who had seen everything up close. It didn't seem to affect him at all. His face was stone as if he had seen it all before.
"H-how did it happen?" Mark asked, looking at his dead friend on the floor.
"It doesn't fucking matter," Guthrie said and stepped out of the light. "Sean and Walt, you're on that one. Throw him out back, maybe a little further down the alley so he doesn't stink up the place."
Walt got up and gave Sean a hand. "Goddammit. I just drank half a bottle and now you want me to do some heavy lifting," Sean said, not giving a shit who heard him.
"Just get your shit up and take this out back. You can go back to your drink when it's done," Guthrie barked, like he was speaking to a child avoiding his chores. Sean and Walt did as they were told.
Mark and Billy tied Diego down to a chair and gagged him. Pax continued to watch as Diego stared at the body, then his eyes met Pax's. To Pax, it looked like he was saying, this is who you chose. Pax had a hard time with a rebuttal to his own thoughts.
6
"That's what I'm saying," Billy said, slurring his words after downing more booze than he could handle. "Look at everyone out here, you think they're good? Sure, in some ways we all are, but we deserve to be here. It's God, he took the good and left the rest."
"That's the stupidest thing I've heard, man," Sean said, spilling his own bottle on his leather jacket. "You think everyone out here is bad and none of the other bad guys were taken? Fuck, man, my neighbor was a fucking asshole, and he sure as hell didn't belong in Heaven. But he ain't here with us. Besides, what about all those fucking serial killers or terrorists? They still around?"
"How do you know? Have you seen any of them walking around, dead or alive? You don't know that shit," Billy retorted.
Pax listened to the banter back and forth about why the apocalypse happened. Why everyone walked around dead, or why some weren't taken when others were. He had no interest in joining the conversation. He was fine listening to the others run their mouths about something they had no clue about.
Guthrie cleared his throat. "Boys, I don't know. I think what Billy is saying is mostly bullshit. Only the good were taken, leaving the rest. What the fuck does that say about me?" Guthrie asked with a smile. The others chuckled at his obvious attempt at humor. "So, where does that leave us?" Guthrie looked at Pax in his dark corner away from everyone else. "Pax, you seem to be knowledgeable on God, right?" His eyes narrowed and an eyebrow raised.
Pax had made it a point to not talk about any part of his life before meeting these men. The person they met was the broken man in the street. The man who killed another man at the mention of God and was willing to let his own life spill out on the street, just to kill another man to put him in his place. After that, they mostly let Pax be, never knowing the full story. He never once mentioned his faith, or lack of it. He became hot around his neck, feeling the spotlight on him. "Isn't it obvious?"
Guthrie raised both eyebrows. "Maybe to some of us it is, but as you should know, not everyone we travel with is the sharpest tool in the shed."
"Fair enough." Pax let out a loud sigh, deciding to take on the question. "Guthrie, where were you when this went down?"
"I was in my garage, working on my bike, God rest its soul. Never got to finish rebuilding the engine all the shit went down and I discovered it all."
"Mark
, where were you?" Pax asked, looking at Mark barely keeping it together at the loss of his friend, Reggie.
"I was in the basement bar, couple blocks down, shooting pool with Reggie and Scott, the bartender."
"What happened to Scott," Guthrie asked.
"Got bit, right on the throat. Thought the guy was a drunk coming down the stairs. Poor bastard had no idea."
"Billy?"
"I was hooking up with a lady in the back of my rig."
"Your rig?" Walt asked. Apparently, Pax wasn't the only one who had kept his previous life a secret.
"Yeah, I drive mostly between here and New Mexico, delivering snack foods."
"And you had a lady? What are those called? I can't remember."
"Lot Lizards," Guthrie chimed in without a second of hesitation.
"It wasn't like that. I knew her and, well, she likes me, see? She would only charge me half her rate."
The guys all laughed at Billy's misfortune. Pax even managed a half-smile. It quickly fell off his face when he saw Diego in the corner, still strapped to a chair. He wondered where Diego was when it all went down, but it didn't really matter. It was all the same story for all of them, and he didn't need to keep asking the others in the room. "We were all locked in somewhere with no visibility. The event, the lights, or whatever the fuck it was supposed to be caused this. Fuck, to think that this was supposed to be a once in a lifetime chance to see some amazing natural event in the night sky. Anybody out in the open, anybody near a window, they're all gone."
Everyone paused to think about it. Billy opened his mouth, ready to protest but closed it upon more thought. "So, where were you?" Guthrie asked.
Images of all the kids he was responsible for, flashed in his mind. He remembered how they looked up to him and how much he enjoyed hanging out with those kids, helping to guide them, helping them believe one big lie. "Somewhere I know it wasn't the second coming." Pax had nothing to say about who he used to be. "God had nothing to do with it, and he has nothing to do with us anymore, if ever."
"Fucking downer, mannnn," Billy slurred.
Guthrie looked at Pax, who only stared back at him. "Well, I suppose we oughta get some rest. Tomorrow's gonna be a big day." He looked over at Diego. "Tomorrow we take down the hospital."
The guys all settled into their cots, facing away from the center of the circle of lanterns that were lit. The ones next to the cots were quickly extinguished, leaving even less light in the building. Pax sat up, thinking about what he was going to do with the next few hours. If he didn't get a drink in him, he wouldn't sleep much, and what little of it he did get, it would be filled with dreams of her. Waking up would break his heart all over again, but if he did drink, he may be total shit tomorrow. He inhaled deeply and walked around to the boxes lined against the walls.
He rummaged through a box and saw what he was looking for. It was the whiskey he had found at the grocery store. He had picked it specifically for himself, hiding it away. Even though the entire store had been loaded up, he didn't trust Walt or Sean to not drink it. He twisted the bottle open, snapping the seal, and took a large swig from it. It burned hot at first but finished smooth. He was no connoisseur, but his method of picking whiskey these days hadn't let him down yet.
Pax walked back to his cot, now in the nearly dark room, and saw someone crouched down next to his personal bag. He quickly pulled his pistol out from his holster and pushed the barrel against the back of the man's head. The men didn't have much that was specifically theirs, but Pax managed to keep a bag of things he had found along the way, and he wasn't going to let anyone take that away from him. "Drop the shit, fucker."
"J-Jesus, Pax. I was just looking for something to drink," Billy said, slowly standing.
"I think you've had enough for the night," Pax said, holstering his gun.
"Go fuck yourself, asshole. You've got a real problem, yoooouknowthat?" Billy managed to make it back to his cot, planting himself, face down on the material. He immediately began snoring.
"I do know that," Pax whispered to himself. He sat on the cot, taking another large swig from the bottle and stared inside it. The light hit it in a way that made the brown liquid shine in the bottle.
Pax looked around at all the guys sleeping. The rest of them either drank enough to pass out, or like Guthrie, had no problems falling straight to sleep. It was obvious to him he was the only one with something haunting him. He had been through many different places with the guys. It was usually the same, though. They'd take whatever they needed, and if they ran into someone, that person usually ended up dead. In fact, he couldn't think of a time that someone they ran into walked away. They all deserved it, he thought at the time, but really, how could he know? Was Diego right? Was he not like these guys? Just because God had abandoned him didn't mean that he had to change completely. It didn't mean he had to abandon himself, did it?
Pax's head started to hurt thinking about everything. He took another sip from the bottle. He got up and walked around, hearing everyone snoring or breathing steadily from sleep. These guys could sleep through anything, and it didn't take much for them to pass out. Get a little booze in them and they'd be out like a light. Pax, however, he needed a lot more than a little. Maybe he wasn't like them. Maybe he was kidding himself and Guthrie's mission wasn't so much the same as Pax's.
Pax walked back to his backpack on the floor. The one that was worth killing one of his own over. Billy was a piece of shit sometimes, but he had saved his life earlier today. If it wasn't for him, he'd have been shot by Diego and the others. He looked at Diego, the other man who had saved his life that same day. Another man he was willing to kill over nothing. He put his bag over his shoulder, catching Diego's eyes glancing his way. Pax gritted his teeth and walked to the door, he stepped over the blood stain on the floor. Reggie hadn't been given a single moment to say anything. He couldn't make his peace to anyone. He was there one moment, then another, gone by Guthrie's decision.
Pax gently opened the door and walked outside. He shut the door behind him, making sure to make no noise, and pulled the flashlight out of his backpack. He started down the street, shining his light in front of him. He wasn't sure this place with Guthrie was for him anymore, and if he wasn't positive, then by his hands or his lack of action, someone that shouldn't be, was going to end up dead.
7
It was stupid to go out at night, but Pax knew it was the only way. If he tried to leave in the daytime, there would be too many questions. Why was he leaving? Where did he think he was going to go? Hell, Pax had no idea how Guthrie would really take it. Would he be angry? Sad? Would he even give a shit? He didn't want to have to face any of those options and, instead, take it all on himself. It was better that way.
He lit the sidewalk in front of him. It was clear of any soulless, which was definitely a good thing. He could take one, maybe two out. But if he ran into any more of them, he was best off turning the other way and running. Fighting in the middle of the night was a good way to get himself killed, and this time, there was nobody around to save him.
He needed to get a block down the street and he'd be able to find any available car and take it. It would be far enough away from the warehouse that the engine wouldn't wake the guys. The street was littered with cars parked against the curb, but was he going to be able to find the keys would be the question. He didn't want to worry about that until he got far enough away to even try.
At the end of the block, an intersection came up, and he started to hear voices. Pax quickly shut his flashlight off before drawing any attention to himself. "You think you could get away?" a man asked, his voice low. The question was followed by what sounded like punching noises against flesh.
"Look, guys, I'm sorry. I don't have anything, just let me go. Nobody has to know," another man said, his voice louder.
"Shut the fuck up," another man's voice said in a low whisper, his accent thick like Diego's. "You're gonna bring those cabrones muertos down on us." Another pu
nching sound followed.
Pax peaked around the corner and discovered two men in dark clothes, standing over another man, who knelt on the sidewalk. They were close to the building, in what would be shadows if it wasn't already dark outside. The two men were beating the other guy in the face. One of them kicked him in the gut. Pax watched the man buckle over.
"I'm serious, I don't have it," the downed man pleaded.
"Fuck it. Let's waste this fool. We got better things to do. Diego is still out here," one of the men said. Pax watched as he pulled out a knife. Both carried guns, but they were probably smart enough to not fire it in the middle of the night with who knows how many soulless could be in the area.
"No, please. I'm telling you the truth," the man cried. Pax watched him, begging those men while on his knees. From where he stood, he definitely didn't look like a threat. Besides, those men were looking for Diego. They were from the hospital, and now they were beating up a defenseless man who had nothing to do with it. Pax pulled his knife, deciding he was going to do something.
He crept closer to the two men who stood over the beaten man. The man looked up and saw Pax, but Pax quickly put a finger to his lips, hoping the man would shut up about it. Pax got behind the man with the knife and rose his own up to throat level. He would have to act fast with the first one, then jump to the second one before anyone realized what was going on. He took the last step needed to get his knife close, but his foot slipped on the crack in the sidewalk. His foot skidded across the street, perking up everyone's ears with the sounds of gravel scraping along the ground.
"Puta madre!" the second man exclaimed, alerting his friend with the knife that Pax was right behind him. Pax thrashed forward with his knife, but the man swung his body backwards, just barely dodging the blade.
"Motherfucker!" the man with the knife said. He stepped forward, bringing his own knife into play. Pax stepped to the side, dodging the stab. Knife fights weren't something Pax had been in a lot of once he found Guthrie. In fact, the ones he was in before had all involved him being stabbed in some way. That was something he really wanted to avoid, as if being stabbed was something people wanted to happen to them.
Patriarch: Soulless Wanderers Book 2 (A Post-Apocalyptic Zombie Thriller) Page 4