Ferryman

by Jonathon Wise

He toyed with the thought of taking the pistol out of his backpack and sticking it in his mouth. It wasn’t bad enough that he abandoned her in life; he also had to do it in death. He slung the backpack off his shoulder and clutched it to his chest. He closed his eyes and as he slowly opened them, he took two steps into the cold water of the Ohio River and opened the flap of the canvas bag.

  He stood staring at the shimmer on the water. If he was going to do it—it wouldn’t be out of a panic-stricken moment of despair. It would be calculated and done with the forethought that there was no reason not to. He took another step and felt the icy chill of the murky water creep up his leg to just below the knees. He reached into the bag and pulled out the pistol. He glanced at the weapon and then closed his eyes as he pulled in a deep calming breath. A second later it was all business as he began his inspection of the gun. He checked the barrel. It was clean and clear. He popped out the clip. It was full. He ejected the chambered round, slapped the clip back in and loaded a fresh round.

  With his heart pounding, he prayed for a reason to keep on going—any reason to prolong his loneliness or give hope that he could ever add value to this godforsaken land.

  He was about to take another step into the river when he started to think about the woman he shot in Indianapolis. He also remembered what the man in the duster yelled at her. He asked her if she were the one that would stop him. In the same way that he would never forget watching her mouth those few unknown words to him, he would never forget the sound of that question, nor the context in which it was asked. What did the man in the duster want her to stop him from doing? Why didn’t she just say that she was?

  He remembered how duster shot the other man in the head, and how he worked the others into a frenzy before turning them loose. He could still picture him standing in front of the fire with that damn duster blowing in the wind.

  Chuck rolled his wrist and looked at both sides of the pistol. After a moment of thought, he flicked the safety back on and slipped the gun in the bag. He had his reason to continue living.

  Chapter 26

  Chuck ground his teeth as he pictured the man in the duster. “Let him ask me if I’m the one who came to stop him.” His nostrils flared as he wove the Chevy around a car on the interstate. “I’ve got his answer.”

  He relaxed his grip on the wheel every few seconds. “Stay loose…keep cool, need to stay focused and get done what needs to be done.” His thoughts shifted to the woman he shot. “I’ll make it up to you and your friend—that’s a promise.”

  By the time he crossed over the bypass, he had been on the road for almost three hours and dusk was falling across the skyline. At no time during that span did he ever start to lose the courage to go through with it. For him, his extended existence was ordained for the singular purpose of putting an end to that son-of-a-bitch in the duster. To do that, he would have to track him down and get in close enough for a clean shot.

  He killed the lights and coasted down the Market Street exit. The incident with the woman occurred somewhere in the vicinity of Michigan and Senate. But of course that was nearly a year ago. If the mob survived the winter and were still in Indianapolis, they could be anywhere now. With that in mind, he pulled into an alley two blocks from the ramp and killed the engine.

  He grabbed the backpack, loaded with extra shells and his sawed-off twelve-gauge, and slung it over his shoulder. He buckled a holstered revolver around his waist and slipped his favorite pistol under the belt behind his back. Short of war, he was ready. After one final check, he snatched his rifle and headed out on foot.

  The first thing he noticed as he crept along the shattered glass and broken doors that lined the street, was how much difference a year made. The overwhelming smell from last fall was gone. He no longer stepped across the shriveled, dried out bodies of the dead. Time, weather and a feast of insects had taken care of that. All that remained were bones, picked clean by nature.

  He was approaching monument circle when a distant shot echoed softly between the surrounding buildings. He stopped to listen to the dying echo. The last reverberation came from the buildings to the south, so he headed north. A block into it he picked up his pursuit to a light jog. It was fast enough to make better time, but slow enough that he never lost touch with what was going on around him.

  He headed north on Illinois and as he closed in on 10th street he began to hear the laughter and mumble of a mob. The question of whether or not they made it through winter had been answered. He veered off the street to the shadowed cover of the ruins along the sidewalk as he pulled the bolt back on his rifle and chambered a round. Like a thief in the night, he slipped through the darkness toward 11th.

  He stealthily maneuvered his way along the brick facades and narrow alleys until he came to a vacant lot. The lot presented a span of sixty feet that offered nothing more than dirt and rubble for cover. He stopped at the edge of the building and listened to the ruckus of the mob while he scanned the area. There was a vacant lot two buildings up on the other side. Every path he could see had at least one exposure to it. He tightened his grip on the rifle and briefly closed his eyes. His next step would be his first into the open. He kept it slow and even as he felt his way through a scattering of old brick.

  He was halfway across the lot when a pickup rolled into the intersection two blocks away. Chuck froze. The truck stopped and a guy with a rifle slung over his shoulder jumped up in the bed and started searching the area with a roof mounted floodlight. Luckily while extremely bright up close, it lacked the power to really illuminate anything more than a block away. Chuck watched the beam wash along the storefronts on its way toward him. No movement, not a blink, not the rise of his chest or the fog of his breath—and they wouldn’t notice him. A soft illumination fell on his jeans and then stopped as the man in the truck held the light steady and squinted.

  The pounding in Chuck’s chest was the only visible movement in his body. If he had to, he could get off the first shot before the man in the bed could even ready his rifle. If the driver didn’t floor it immediately, he could probably take him out as well. The only problem was that he had no idea how many others were in the area. For all he knew, there could be men searching the area all around him. One shot would bring hell down on him.

  Chuck slowly moved his thumb over to the safety on the rifle and flicked it off as he watched the man in the back of the truck stretch his neck out for a better look. He was about to swing the rifle up and shoot when he heard the exhaust rumble of another vehicle speeding down from the north. He held his position as the sound grew louder and started to deviate to his right. From the corner of his eye, he saw the car’s headlights one street over as it passed the opening of the vacant lot across the street. As the rumble faded to his rear, the dim beam of the floodlight finally moved off him and onto the buildings across the street. A moment later the light flicked off and the man jumped down to the asphalt next to the passenger door. Chuck blinked and was about to let out the breath he had been holding, when the man suddenly turned back to take one last look in his direction. After a quick final scan the man stepped up onto the running board below the door, banged his fist on the metal roof of the cab and the truck lurched forward. They were most likely off to perform the same search at the next intersection.

  Chuck relaxed his grip on the rifle. It could have been a nightly routine, but it looked like they were searching for someone. He quietly made his way to the corner of the next building and crouched under the cover of some taller weeds at the edge of the vacant lot. That was when he noticed that the street wasn’t as dark as it was a few minutes earlier. He looked up to the night sky. The clouds were still clustered in front of the moon. It wasn’t his eyes; they had already adjusted to the dark. Something was going on. He peeked around the front of the building and saw a soft glow flickering on the face of a shop across the street one block up. His first thoughts were that they were either burning another car, or they had started another bonfire like the one he remembered D
uster standing in front of. But that didn’t make sense. He pulled around and looked through the vacant lot to the back of the buildings one block over. There was a faint light falling between them too. Either the source of the light was moving or there were multiple sources. As he struggled to understand what it meant, he heard the horrible sounds of bats and pipes banging against metal and brick.

  They were driving someone toward capture or death.

  He was about to move in for a closer look when he heard a man yell out, “Cindy! Don’t make us hunt you down—it will only make it worse. You know that!”

  Even though Chuck was full of confidence and determination, that voice still sent a chill through him. It was the same voice that yelled for him to come forward after he shot the woman. It was the voice of the man he came to kill. Duster was looking for a girl named Cindy.

  Chuck quietly slipped inside a dark building and surveyed the storefronts at the next intersection through the broken glass of the front window. A few seconds later he spotted a guy with a torch a block beyond the intersection. He drew his rifle and caught the figure in the crosshairs of his scope. It wasn’t Duster—it was a teenage boy. The boy stuck the torch through the broken window of a storefront, quickly scanned it for the girl they were chasing, and moved on to the next. He continued in that fashion as he worked his way toward the intersection. They were probably doing the same thing on every street in the area. Whoever the girl was—they wanted her pretty bad.

  As the boy popped his head in through another broken window, Chuck saw a flicker of movement come from inside a dark corner storefront a half of a block from the boy. He focused the scope on the storefront across the street. When the boy pulled the torch out of the building he was searching, Chuck caught the reflection of a black girl’s face in his scope. It had to be Cindy.

  Chuck continued to watch as the boy ducked in to search the next building. That was the girl’s opportunity to run. All she had to do was take it. But she didn’t and moments later, the boy pulled back out and continued on to the next one, just four buildings from her position. Chuck could see the fear in her face as the boy stuck the torch in the next building.

  “Now! Go damn it—do it now…” Chuck huffed in a whisper as the kid poked his head in the window three buildings away. A few seconds later the features of his face tensed up as the boy popped back out—another opportunity missed. He thought about the woman he shot and the terrible and painful death she would have endured if he hadn’t. He didn’t let it happen then, and he couldn’t let it happen now. As soon as the boy poked his head through the storefront two buildings from her position, Chuck ran out of the building and ducked behind an abandoned car across the street from the girl.

  Chuck peeked over the fender and saw the girl withdraw further into the store. The boy pulled back out of the window and the torch lit up the area like a streetlight. It was a matter of timing. As soon as the light dimmed again, Chuck shot across the street to the car parked along the curb just outside the girl’s window.

  He had to take a chance. He carefully peered around the front bumper as the boy’s torch lit up the storefront. He didn’t see the girl, but that didn’t matter. As soon as the boy stuck the torch in, Chuck drew his rifle back and jumped up from behind the car. With the clanging of bats and pipes echoing in the street, the boy never even heard him. Chuck turned him off like a light with a quick pop to the back of the head. The boy dropped the torch and started to fall, but Chuck grabbed him before he hit the jagged edges of the broken store window. He laid the boy down on the sidewalk and snatched the torch lying inside the broken window. “You still in there?” he whispered.

  No answer came. He glanced up the street to make sure no one else was coming, and then he ran around to the door and went inside. The torch lit up a junkyard of tipped over display cases, clothes racks, boxes and other debris. “I’m not going to hurt you…if we hurry…we can still make it out of here.” He swung the torch in a sweep of the store and caught the girl crouching behind a wooden display. Keeping his distance and being careful not to scare her any more than she already was, he calmly said, “I’m not with them. If you want, I can help get you out of here and take you to a place that’s safe.”

  The girl slowly inched up to where she could look over the display. In a voice that didn’t sound as young as he would have expected, she asked, “How do I know you’re telling the truth? How do I know I can trust you?”

  He lowered the torch to where it lit up his face. “Listen, I don’t know what to tell you. You know I’m not with them…I didn’t give away where you were hiding, did I?”

  “No, but that doesn’t mean anything. How do I know you don’t want to rape me?”

  For a reason that made absolutely no sense, he put his own life on the line. He took the revolver out of the holster around his waist, showed her that it was loaded and then inched a little closer and laid it down on the floor. He slowly backed away and said, “We can’t stay here any longer. I’m leaving. You can come with me or go on your own. Either way, you’ll have a loaded gun to defend yourself.” He turned his back to her. After a moment of hesitation he walked over to the door and stopped. If she came, he would take her back to Madison where she would be safe. If she didn’t, he would continue with his plan to kill Duster.

  He was about to step outside when she hissed, “Wait!”

  Chapter 27

  Chuck waited until they were outside city limits before turning the headlights on. When the dash lit up, he got his first real look at the girl sitting with her back against the door on the passenger side. They hadn’t spoken one word to each other since she followed him out of the trashed remains of the store. He led, and although she kept fairly close to him, he wasn’t sure who she was more afraid of—the mob looking for her, or him. Whichever was the case, she made sure that he knew where the revolver was pointed during the slow, tedious trek back to the truck. Just as it was now.

  When he first saw her crouched behind the storefront window he thought she was a kid, but now that he could really see her, she looked to be in her late teens or early twenties. He wasn’t too good at guessing age. When you reach your mid-forties, everyone under twenty-five looks like they’re still in high school. He studied her face and then met her unwavering stare back at him. There was a look of confidence in her eyes that told him she wasn’t one to back down. He broke his stare first and shifted his gaze to her hair. Although it was dirty and tangled, it didn’t look dry and coarse like he was used to seeing on black women. It hung all the way down to the middle of her back and looked like it would have been soft and straight if she were cleaned up. He followed her hair to her arms, down to the scraped knuckles on her hands, until finally he ended up back at the revolver pointed at him.

  “Where are you taking me?”

  The accusation in her voice pushed his attention away from her and back to the burnout cars coming up in front of the truck. “We’re going to Madison. You know where that is?”

  With a little less tension, she said, “Down south of Columbus—right?”

  “Yeah…it’s on the Ohio River.”

  “Why are you taking me there?”

  “It’s where I live.”

  “Bull shit…If you lived down there—why would you come all the way up here?”

  After a second of silence, he lied. “I was looking for supplies.”

  “In the city! You’re not as smart as you look.”

  “Maybe not, but I saved your ass.”

  She took her eyes off him for the first time and quickly scanned the darkness around the interstate. “Hey I’m appreciative and all, but you can let me out here.”

  “Fine,” he said softly as he slowed the truck to a stop. She opened the door and dropped one foot to the pavement, stopping short of getting out as she looked over the graveyard of derelict cars under the moonlit sky.

  He looked over as she sat poised on the edge of the seat, but instead of seeing Cindy—he saw his wife. It was Beck
y all over again. He was about to leave this poor girl on the side of road just like he did his wife that day. It was definitely a time of uncertainty, but one thing stood out clear as day. He wasn’t about to let that happen again. His hand shot over to her in a startled reflex. “Wait…” Cindy glanced down at the hand on her shoulder before turning back to stare out into the darkness. “Please don’t go.”

  She maintained her gaze at the unknown. “You really live in Madison?”

  He let out a thankful sigh. “Yeah I do.”

  “And you have food there.”

  “Enough to last for years.”

  “I thought you said you were up here looking for supplies?”

  Chuck shook his head in disbelief. “Forget about what I said…it’s not important. I’m offering you a safe place to live where you don’t have to worry about the assholes that were after you. What do you say?”

  She sighed and turned toward at him. “Why would you do that?”

  Chuck had gone to Indianapolis, willing to die in order to kill a man. That was the only response that came to him when he prayed at the river for a reason to keep on living. Now as he looked at the girl who was about to get out of his truck, and tried to imagine all the hardship she had been through over the last year, he found another reason. “Hope.”

  It was her turn to shake her head in disbelief. “Are you kidding me! Open your eyes mister!” She laughed in defiance, “Hope went out the window about the same time I got raped and my friends were murdered and burned.”

  Chuck’s mind went blank as he suddenly felt overwhelmed and belittled by her words. He truly had no idea of the hardship she’d lived through. That any of them had lived through. It was enough that could have left her full of hate and spite. But as he stared into her eyes, that’s not what he saw. She looked on the verge of giving up, but still desperately searching for something, anything…to cling too. It was up to him to give her that reason. “Hope that tomorrow may be better than today. Hope that people still care.” Chuck held out both hands, palm up over his lap and emphasized one last time in a soft, drawn out voice. “Hope!”