Her Name is Beth: Alone: Book 5

by Darrell Maloney

  “And you say they came through her several months ago? I can think of only a couple of people who’ve been here that long. I can take you to them if you want.”

  “If you don’t mind sir, that would be quite helpful.”

  John led Dave through the rest stop area. Dave looked around in wonder. It looked like a commune. Women were cooking food on above ground grills, children were jumping rope and throwing a football. Clothes lines were set up between the covered picnic tables and laundry was blowing in the breeze.

  People were laughing and sitting in folding lawn chairs socializing. On one picnic table men were playing poker. At another women were playing hearts. At yet another men and women together were playing dominos.

  Dave heard a clink sound that sounded familiar but he couldn’t place it. He turned to look and saw several men playing horse shoes.

  The scene playing out around him had a certain sense of déjà vu about it. He felt as though he’d been here before.

  Then it occurred to him that, were it not for the laundry hanging all over the place, this was just like any of the hundred or more Marine Corps company picnics he’d attended while he was on active duty.

  The other thing that struck him was that everyone seemed to be getting along.

  He was looking for a word… any word, to describe what he was looking at.

  The only word he could come up with was nirvana. He hadn’t seen a group of people this happy, this content since the blackout.

  “What is this place? I’ve never seen anything like it.”

  “Oh, we don’t have a name. At least not officially. If you have to call us anything, call us ‘Cuervo Rest Stop.’”

  “Cuervo? Like the tequila?”

  “No. Like the town. Cuervo is just a little spit of a town just up the road. We’re the closest rest stop to it.”

  “How does everybody here get along so well?”

  “Oh, don’t let appearances deceive you. We have the same problems every other community has. We have people who don’t like each other, men who cheat on their wives and girlfriends, women who cheat on their men.

  “We just keep reminding everybody that anger and hatred and jealousy are things best kept to themselves. That when they boil to the surface and get to the point they cause problems within the camp, we’ll ask those people to leave.

  “And it happens occasionally. But not often. Most everybody who comes here says the same thing you just did. That they’ve never seen anything like this before. Many of them want to stay here. So we tell them they’re welcome, provided they abide by camp rules.”

  “And what are the camp rules?”

  The man laughed.

  “Well, they ain’t complicated. Be respectful of others. Don’t steal. Don’t fight. Settle all arguments and differences away from the camp where the rest of us don’t have to watch. And the only laundry we want aired in public is what’s hanging on the line.”

  “And that works?”

  “Look around. You tell me.”

  Chapter 38

  “This is Jason and Lisa. I don’t remember their last name, although they’ve told me a hundred times. I don’t know if that’s Alzheimer’s kicking in or just old age.”

  A middle aged man put a pull from a marijuana cigarette and held the smoke as he handed the joint to another man.

  He turned to Dave, exhaled from the side of his mouth, and said, “Shook. Jason Shook. And this beautiful lady next to me is my wife of twelve years, Lisa.”

  Dave nodded and said, “I’m Dave. Dave Speer.”

  Lisa interrupted the formalities by saying, “Jason, you’re being rude!”

  She nodded her head toward the joint, which by now had changed hands twice again.

  Jason, half dazed and more than a little confused, took a moment to ponder her words and figure out what she was talking about.

  Then it hit him.

  “Oh, I’m sorry, dude. Hey, pass that thing back over here.”

  Dave said, “No. That’s okay. Really.”

  The man who held out the joint shrugged his shoulders, took a hit, and passed it on.

  John continued.

  “Dave here is looking for two people who kidnapped his daughter. They would have passed through here several months ago. I told him most of these people are relative newcomers. But you guys were some of the first ones here, right?”

  Lisa answered, “Yes. We were here almost from day one. We helped set up everything. Helped set up the chore list, make the rules. Jason’s the one who dragged plywood and lumber off the lumber truck and built the outhouses out back.”

  “Yep,” Jason said. “What a shitty job that was.”

  He giggled at his joke and Lisa rolled her eyes. Dave had the impression Jason had told the same tired joke a hundred times and still thought it was funny.

  She turned her attention to Dave.

  “That’s a long time ago, but I’ll help if I can. What did they look like?”

  “I never saw them. An older couple is all I know. But if you don’t remember them you might remember what they were driving. A Ford Ranger pickup truck with the engine removed. It was being pulled by a team of two horses.”

  Lisa and Jason looked at one another. He shrugged. She shook her head.

  “I’m sorry. Something like that I would remember. Have you talked to Joe and Tina Koslow?”

  John said, “We’re headed there next. Anybody else who might have seen them?”

  “Maybe Joey Cassavettes. He got here not long after we did. Maybe a month or so.”

  She turned back to Dave.

  “I’m sorry we couldn’t help you. I hope you find them and get your girl back. How old is she?”

  “She’s eight now. Her name is Beth.”

  Lisa’s eyes widened and teared up just a bit. She looked like she wanted to say something, but didn’t.

  John said, “There’s Tina over there. Come on, Dave.”

  He turned and started to walk away.

  Dave was torn. Something was definitely unsaid between he and Lisa. He wanted to know what it was. But John was his link to the people in the group and he didn’t want to lose it.

  So he followed John and made a mental note to come and talk to Lisa later if he had the chance.

  Once they were away from the couple, though, John explained.

  “Beth was the name of Lisa’s baby. She was born here in the compound, over there in our makeshift clinic, about five months or so ago.

  “That was before my time, but I heard the sad story from a couple of the others. That was back when the camp was new and there were only a few people here.

  “There was no one who was trained in medicine or childbirth. Just a couple of other women who had given birth themselves. The baby was born with the cord around her neck and wasn’t breathing. Poor thing. She had to lay there watching them try to save her baby. I understand they gave it a valiant effort, but weren’t able to.

  “I heard both of them went into a deep depression after that. They only recently started to come out of it, mostly due to what they’re smoking to ease the pain, I expect. But hey, I’m not here to judge.”

  The thought of losing a daughter wasn’t something Dave wanted to discuss, or even think about. He wanted to change the subject.

  “Thank you, John, for taking the time to put me in touch with these folks.”

  John laughed.

  “Hey, look around you, my friend. There’s not a lot else to do around here.”

  They caught up to Tina, a woman in her thirties who was probably strikingly beautiful at one time. But the harsh realities of life were taking its toll, and she looked haggard and worn.

  “Tina,” John said. “This is Dave. He’s inquiring about some people who stole his young daughter and came through this way a few months ago. He wants to know if you might remember them.”

  She looked at Dave with sympathetic eyes.

  “People pass through here every day. But I’ll try. What did
they look like?”

  Dave said, “They were an older couple. With an eight year old girl. They had a rig. A Ford Ranger pickup they took the engine out of. And they were using horses to tow it.”

  Tina’s face seemed to brighten a bit.

  She finished Dave’s thought for him.

  “It was a red pickup and the horses were brown.”

  Dave almost fell over.

  “Oh, my God. You’ve seen them.”

  “Yes. It was several months ago. They stayed here a couple of days. They had a new horse who was giving them fits. He was determined to show he didn’t want to pull the wagon. We had a horse trainer at the time, Joel something… he’s moved on since. He worked with their horse for a day or two and gave them some tips on how to treat him so he’d work harder for them. I woke up one morning and they were gone.”

  “Did they say where they were headed?”

  “Yes. Albuquerque. I remember because I told them I didn’t think they’d get that far unless they got that horse under control.”

  She looked at him, concerned.

  “If they did make it there, you’ve got a rough time ahead of you. Albuquerque’s gone bad. Very bad.”

  “So I heard.”

  Chapter 39

  Dave was concerned but was undeterred.

  It didn’t matter if Albuquerque was overrun by the worst mankind had to offer.

  He’d willingly crawl through the fires of hell to get his daughter back. And he was up to the task.

  He said his goodbyes to the people at the encampment and set off down the highway. At the flatbed truck, he pounded on the access door to the sleeper cab and announced his presence.

  “Anybody in there?”

  There was no answer.

  He continued.

  “I mean you no harm. I’m just looking for a place to sleep. If anybody’s in there just say something and I’ll leave you in peace.”

  Still nothing.

  He tugged on the tiny door and it held tight.

  That didn’t mean anything, though. Most of them locked automatically and couldn’t be opened from the outside without a key.

  He pulled on the driver’s door and it opened easily.

  He used the long handle on the side of the cab to pull himself up as he stepped up to the cab and peered inside.

  It was empty. The curtain to the sleeper was open and it was empty as well.

  He crawled in and examined the sleeper. It appeared reasonably clean, although discarded water bottles and other trash told him it had been used often by transients.

  There were no noticeable signs of bedbugs or roaches. That was always a plus.

  The pillow was missing, but they were generally pretty grungy anyway. He could rest his head on his backpack. He’d done so many times before.

  He stripped down to his underwear and used a bottle of water from his backpack to soak his t-shirt through and through. Then he held his breath and winced as he put it back on his body.

  Even in the hottest climate, putting a wet t-shirt on took his breath away. It was almost painful in its own demonic way. Yes, after a couple of minutes it made him cool as a cucumber, and would for three or four hours. But getting over the initial shock of the first couple of minutes was sheer torture.

  He could tell this was a newer sleeper because of the way it smelled. There was no musky smell like the older ones had. No mildew smell which told him the seams leaked during heavy rainstorms. There was the distinct odor of unwashed bodies who’d used the accommodations before him. But he tried to overlook that. He hadn’t washed up in a couple of days and knew he wouldn’t win any sweet smell competitions himself.

  This sleeper came equipped with a large sunroof, which made it much easier to see around the compartment in the daytime. The roof was clear. Not opaque, like others he’d seen. He imagined the trucker, on the nights he found it hard to go to sleep, gazing up at the stars in the sky.

  He slid the door closed on the sunroof and it immediately grew dark in the tiny cabin.

  He locked the truck’s doors, made sure the sleeper’s access door was secure, and stretched out on the bunk.

  His adrenaline was pumping and he was excited for the news that he was indeed on the right track. He was less than two hundred miles from Albuquerque now. Another couple of nights from Beth and the assholes who took her.

  He knew that the woman named Tina wasn’t just trying to pacify him. Wasn’t just telling him what he wanted to hear. She’d correctly identified the color of the pickup and the description of the horses without his prodding. And he could tell by the look on her face. She was genuine, and was happy to be helping him.

  He thought he’d have a hard time sleeping.

  He thought he’d lay there for hours, pondering different courses of action for getting his daughter back once he finally found her.

  He thought he’d go over one scenario after another as his mind raced at a hundred miles an hour.

  Of how fast she’d run toward him once she was liberated. Of what she’d say to him after all that time. Of what he’d say to her in turn.

  He doubted, as he lay down, that he’d get much sleep at all.

  But he was wrong. Instead of his racing and keeping him awake, Tina’s confirmation that he was headed in the right direction had the opposite effect.

  It took a huge weight off his shoulders. It melted away much of the stress he’d be feeling.

  It calmed him.

  He was sound asleep in mere minutes.

  Chapter 40

  Dave didn’t dream often. He was jealous of others, like Sarah, who dreamed almost every night.

  When he did dream he rejoiced. For he considered it free entertainment.

  He once told Sarah, “It’s like going to a movie you don’t have to pay for. And you can’t go broke from buying overpriced popcorn. And you don’t clog your arteries from eating it. It’s like the perfect source of entertainment because it’s absolutely free.”

  On this particular day, though, he dreamed a dream which wasn’t very pleasant. That was uncharacteristic of him.

  He also remembered even the most minute details of his dream, which was even more unusual.

  Wide awake at five p.m., he lay on the bunk staring at the ceiling. He could see light peeking through the cracks between the sunroof and its sliding cover. Watched as it brightened and dimmed as clouds flew over and broke the bright sunlight beating down upon the truck.

  He knew he wasn’t going back to sleep. No time soon, anyway. To add to the misery he’d felt from his bad dream, his t-shirt had dried and he was sweating and uncomfortable.

  Perhaps he’d write to Sarah.

  Putting words on paper had always been therapeutic in the past. During the year he was alone he put his hopes, his dreams, his terrifying fears.

  He thought it might help him this time as well.

  Had Sarah been with him, she likely would have told him what his dreams meant. One of her hobbies, before the world went to hell, was dream interpretation. She read books about it. Followed blogs about it. Was even a member of several Facebook dream interpretation groups.

  He reached into his backpack and took out the tattered journal where he’d been professing his deepest secrets and most personal feelings for the previous year. He noticed the binding was starting to come loose at the bottom.

  He’d fix it later, he resolved, and opened it to the page where he’d left off a couple of days before.

  Hi, honey.

  I’m afraid I don’t have the news for you that you’ve been waiting for.

  Not today, anyway. I hope to soon, though.

  Right now I should be sleeping. It’s the afternoon of… Wednesday, I think. But I’m not even sure of that anymore. I wish my watch had a day/date feature. But I guess it’s more important it keeps good time.

  Listen to me. I’m rambling already. You told me one time I tend to ramble when I’m tired. I think that’s probably true, since you’ve always been right a
bout pretty much everything.

  That means the next few hours are really gonna suck, if I’m already tired several hours before my night really gets started.

  Today I talked to someone who said they saw the pickup I’m chasing. She couldn’t remember seeing Beth, but she identified the rig and described it accurately. She said they were headed to Albuquerque. So I’ve been on the right track the whole time, despite my self-doubts.

  That’s not why I’m writing, though.

  As I said, I’m supposed to be sleeping. I woke up about an hour ago, terrified about a dream I had. Actually, I guess it was more of a nightmare.

  I dreamed I made it to Albuquerque. And that I found them. But Beth wasn’t with them.

  I beat the man until he was almost unconscious, asking him over and over again where my daughter was. He wouldn’t say a word to me. He just kept laughing a very sinister laugh.

  Finally, just before I choked him to death, the woman he was with, his accomplice, cackled like an old witch and told me to leave him alone and deal with her.

  For some reason, I just dropped the man. Just let him go. And I turned my attention to her.

  She told me she would tell me where I could find Beth. But it would cost me some gold. I told her she could have all the gold I had, and I pulled out a bag of the stuff and handed it to her.

  She looked down at it and smiled, and she had no teeth. I swear to God, honey, dozens of tarantulas came pouring out of her mouth and ran down her arm. They were swarming all over the bag of gold and she was cackling like the hideous witch she was.

  She looked up at me again and told me, “Your daughter is at the intersection of Baker Street and Cuervo Avenue.”

  Cuervo is also the name of the little town just up the highway from where I am, if that has any bearing on the dream. Probably doesn’t.

  Anyway, somehow I knew exactly where Baker Street and Cuervo Avenue was, even though I’ve never been to Albuquerque in my life.

  I left the Explorer and started running through the streets, even though I knew it was miles and miles away.