A Lesson Learned: Red: Book 3

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A Lesson Learned: Red: Book 3 Page 6

by Darrell Maloney


  “I couldn’t get out of bed for three weeks. He stripped me down and covered me with sheets from the Walmart and changed them out every time they got soiled. He said he went through every sheet that was still on the shelf, and was getting ready to start taking the blankets before I was finally able to get up to relieve myself.”

  “How long ago was that?”

  “Oh, heck. Time is something I don’t keep track of any more. Maybe six months or so.

  “By the time I was healed enough to go outside again the parts of the bodies that hadn’t burned had been picked to the bone by the birds and wild dogs. The ashes had been washed away by the rains or blown away by the winds. I took a laundry basket out there and collected what was left of the bones and skulls and buried them all together in a common grave.”

  “Did you know Walt before the day of the fight?”

  “I knew who he was. He had a reputation as being a guy who would let you slide if you didn’t have the money for his motel. Would let you stay free for a few days. Everybody said he was a good guy.”

  “You said something a minute ago. You tried not to like him. For his sake. What did you mean by that?”

  He hesitated. Then he started to mouth some words but hesitated again.

  He didn’t want to answer her question.

  But she wouldn’t let him off the hook. She needed to know what made this young man tick. And she didn’t know quite why.

  “Everyone I’ve ever loved is dead. Everyone I’ve formed a close friendship with is dead. Walt did a lot for me. He saved my life. There wasn’t anyone else out there who would have taken me in, protected me from further harm. Fed me and cleaned me until I could care for myself again.

  “He told me it was no big deal. That if he hadn’t done it, I’d have regained consciousness at some point and crawled home. I’d have healed eventually, he told me. He said he just helped speed up what would have been inevitable. But I know better.”

  “Meaning?”

  “Meaning I know I would have died without his help. He saved my life and he didn’t have to. He shared his food and water with me and nursed my wounds. He cleaned up my vomit every day when the concussion had me throwing up. He tied me down when I was out of my mind and hallucinating and trying to attack everything in sight.

  “He said I was at death’s door, and I believe him. And he pulled me back from that door. He saved my life.

  “I tried not to like him. I told him I hated him and it caught him off guard. He asked me why and I told him that every time I developed a friendship with someone they died. I told him I was tired of burying people I cared about. And that it was best for everyone if I just hated him.”

  “What did he say?”

  “He laughed.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes. He laughed and said I shouldn’t be so superstitious. That he’d lived a long and rich life and if he dropped dead at my feet he’d have no regrets. Then he said he didn’t care if he hated my guts. That it wasn’t going to change who he was. And that even if I hated him, he’d still take me in and take care of me if I got myself hurt again.

  “I asked him, but why? Why would you take care of someone who hated you?”

  “What did he say?”

  “He said that if he stopped trying to help others, he would cease to be human. And that would finally give him something to regret.

  “So I tried not to like him. I really did. But he was a good man. I didn’t see him often after that. I made a point not to go back to the motel. But I couldn’t stop him from coming to see me. He came by every couple of days, to ask how I was doing. If somebody paid for their room with jerky or trail mix he brought me some. He was always on me to drink more water. To keep from getting dehydrated. Sometimes I’d wake up in the morning and find a couple of bottles of water next to my feet. I knew it was him. Nobody else would do that for me.

  “At least, not until you came and brought me food.”

  Red reached across the table and took his hand. She was surprised to find that he was trembling.

  “Jacob, look at me.”

  He’d been avoiding her eyes. He was staring a hole through what was left of his steak.

  She placed her hand beneath his chin and nudged it upward until their eyes met.

  “Jacob, you know that you’re talking foolishness. I hate to be blunt, but you are. Your liking somebody will not cause them to die. The world is a vicious and heartless place now. Bad men are everywhere. So is illness and death. You should relish the opportunities to care for someone when you can. Because the number of people worth caring about is dwindling. Be glad you’re lucky enough to find someone deserving of your affection, because I’d guess there aren’t many of them still out there.

  “As for Walt, he was living on borrowed time. He told me so. He said on some days he just wanted his old body to give up. He missed his wife that much. He couldn’t bring himself to take his own life, but he wasn’t afraid of dying either.

  “He just gave up, Jacob. He gave up and willed his body to die. That wasn’t your fault, and I’m not going to let you blame yourself for it. I’m just not.”

  “That’s not all of it, Red. There’s something else too.”

  She sat back in her chair.

  “Something else is bothering you? What is it?”

  “I hear what you said. You don’t think there’s any connection. That I had nothing to do with Walt’s death, or the deaths of everyone else I’ve ever cared about. But I disagree. It can’t be a coincidence that everyone I loved or liked in this world has died. And that I believed Walt when he told me the same things you just did. And I let myself like him, and now he’s dead too.

  “So I hear what you’re saying, but I don’t believe you. And the worst of it is…”

  He took a deep breath.

  “The worst of it is…”

  “What? Tell me, Jacob. Tell me what the worst of it is.”

  “The worst of it is, I like you. You’ve been kind to me. I like you a lot. And that means your days are numbered too.”

  Chapter 17

  They finished their steaks and walked the horses toward the motel, but stopped short when they got to an abandoned Exxon station.

  “Why are we stopping?” a puzzled Red asked.

  “Storm coming.”

  She looked up and saw that the skies had clouded over, the clouds dark and foreboding. The wind had also picked up considerably while they were in the restaurant.

  Lastly, the horses were just a bit more skittish than they should have been.

  Red kicked herself. She was usually very finely attuned to the weather conditions. One had to be when they slept on the open road, beneath a starlit sky.

  But they wouldn’t be seeing any stars on this night. And in all likelihood, if they slept outside they’d wake up soaking wet.

  “This is where I bed down in bad weather,” Jacob said. “There’s a service bay that locks from the inside. I can put the ponies in there and lock them in. Then I’ll sleep on the floor just inside the station’s door. Nobody can get to the horses without opening the door and waking me up. So I can sleep peacefully and hopefully get a good night’s sleep for a change. Do you like sleeping when it’s raining, Red?”

  “Yes. As long as I can stay dry while I’m listening to it. Don’t you need to go back for your bed roll?”

  “Nope. I’ve got a blow up mattress and sleeping bag I keep in that closet over there. I need for you to do me a favor if you would, though.”

  “I’ll try, Jacob. What is it?”

  “You said you know the man who owns these horses. I didn’t want to pry, but I assumed he’s your boyfriend or husband or something. When you get back to the motel would you tell him where I am? I don’t want him to think I stole his horses and took off with them.”

  Red pursed her words carefully.

  “Jacob, there’s something I haven’t told you about Jesse Luna.”

  “Who?”

  “The man
who paid you to watch his horses.”

  “Oh.”

  “He’s dead, Jacob. I killed him.”

  The man-boy looked puzzled but said nothing.

  So Red continued.

  “It wasn’t self-defense, Jacob. I didn’t kill him because he was trying to kill me, although I know he would have given a chance. I killed him because he admitted to killing my husband and son, then my father and a good friend of mine. And because I knew there was no more law around to punish him.

  “So I took it upon myself to see that justice was done. I hope you don’t think too harshly of me for that.”

  He stared at the floor.

  She put a hand on his shoulder, half expecting him to pull away in disgust.

  “I’m sorry,” he said.

  It was her turn to be puzzled.

  “Why?”

  “We’ve spent a lot of time today talking about my miserable life. About how I’ve lost all my loved ones. About how I’ve killed. And it never dawned on me that you’ve lost people too. You’ve been hurt as well. And you, like me, have taken life as well.”

  He placed a hand atop hers and finally looked her in the eyes.

  “You told me when we met that you had business here in town. Was killing him that business?”

  “Yes.”

  “And now that you’ve done it, I suppose you’ll leave?”

  “Yes.”

  The wind left his sails. He once again looked at the floor.

  She continued.

  “But not until tomorrow, Jacob. And I have no desire to spend the night in the same room as that bastard’s body. I’d like to go get my backpack and bedroll and bunk in here with you tonight, if that’s okay.”

  “Sure.”

  She could tell by the tone of his voice his heart was breaking.

  “You stay here and guard the horses. I’ve got time to get back before it starts to rain. It’s going to get cool tonight. Do you have some extra blankets?”

  “No. Just my sleeping bag.”

  “I’ll bring a couple back from the motel.”

  She left him there, in the middle of what once was the busiest gas station in west Lubbock. Now, as she walked out the door and away from him, it was just another abandoned building, most of its windows boarded up and the floor covered with the trash left behind by looters.

  And a very lonely teenage boy trying very hard to be a man, and trying very hard to survive from day to day.

  He called out, when she was long out of earshot, “Be careful, Red.”

  Then, in a lower and sorrow-filled voice meant only for himself, he added, “I don’t want to lose you too.”

  He watched her as she disappeared from view, wondering why God brought her to him.

  Was it her mission to save him from himself? To finally convince him that it wasn’t his love or affection which caused so many of his people to die? Maybe to prevent him from putting that gun to his temple and pulling that trigger, as he’d been tempted to do every single night for weeks.

  Perhaps God had indeed sent her to save him. Perhaps she was a guardian angel in the form of a rough-hewn redheaded cowgirl.

  Perhaps it was her mission to pull him back from the brink. To save him from himself, as Walt had saved him after being beaten and stabbed.

  It suddenly dawned on him that maybe her work was done. Maybe her mission was to give him a reason to go on after Walt’s death. Maybe his mission was to find her after she came into his life and then walked out again.

  Maybe she wasn’t coming back.

  He fell to his knees and sobbed.

  Chapter 18

  Red walked into the motel room not quite knowing what she would find. She had her handgun pulled and at the ready in her right hand, just in case. Just in case he’d managed to get loose, and had managed to stop the bleeding.

  Just in case he was waiting to ambush her when she returned.

  As she gingerly stepped into the darkened room she regretted not taking Luna’s guns with her. But deep down inside she knew he was no longer a threat. She was raised on a working ranch, into a family which had owned horses and cattle and pigs. She could tie a knot as securely as any man.

  There had been nothing in the room sharp enough to cut through the ropes even if he was able to get a hand free from the bedpost. And the posts were sturdy, she’d made sure of that. Too sturdy for a man to break, even in the panic of his last throes.

  Still, Red was one who recognized the value of caution. She owed her life to her being aware of her surroundings and watching her own back. She carefully made her way through the living room of the apartment-turned motel room, and through the bedroom door that connected with the living room.

  And there, as she’d suspected, was Luna.

  Still tied to the bed as she’d left him.

  He’d bled out, as she knew he would. The sheets between his beds was soaked a crimson red, as were his white underwear.

  His ankles and wrists were raw and red from his thrashing to get loose, and on his face was a hideous look of terror, frozen there for all time.

  His eyes, staring out into the permanent nothingness of death, reflected the terror of his last moments. His mouth gaped open, frozen there as he gasped his last breath.

  The monster that Luna had been was no more. Now he was merely a cooling corpse who’d paid a heavy price for his deeds.

  Red stared at his face.

  She was surprised that she was completely void of emotion.

  She’d expected to feel hatred. And perhaps a bit of pity. But she felt nothing. She may as well have been looking at the empty beer can on the night table adjacent to the bed. Odd that she’d never noticed it before. She studied it for a moment, wondering how long it had been there. Whether it had been placed there by Luna, or by some long-gone resident.

  She spent more time pondering that than she did the body of Jesse Luna as she gathered her things and left.

  Chapter 19

  Jacob took a deep breath as he watch Red approaching.

  He’d been standing in the front window of the old service station, watching for her, and then got distracted by a spider building a web in the corner of the window frame.

  He wondered whether the insects were the lucky ones.

  They weren’t affected by the blackout. They hadn’t gotten dependent on automobiles and televisions and microwaves. Therefore they didn’t miss them when they went away. Insects seemingly had no feelings, no emotions. They didn’t lose loved ones because they never had them. Merely relatives they cared nothing about. Insects didn’t die as a direct result of the blackout. They weren’t murdered for their food or water. They didn’t kill themselves out of despair. They didn’t fall victim to the plague, although they certainly contributed to it.

  The flies and mosquitoes did, anyway. They were the ones largely blamed for carrying the deadly virus from corpses to the living.

  Humans paid a heavy price in the year or so since the blackout. So had house pets, which had largely been left to fend for themselves as their owners turned their attention to more pressing matters. Like searching for food and water to survive from day to day.

  Some of the pets starved to death or died from dysentery after drinking bad water and spoiled meat. Most, though, had been eaten by people desperate for fresh meat… any fresh meat.

  He’d been so distracted by his thoughts and by the spider that by the time he’d looked out the window again Red was very clearly in view.

  He was relieved. For in the short time he’d known her he’d come to regard her as a friend. He’d come to like her. Actually had right from the start.

  And in his mind that was dangerous for her.

  She was in full self-preservation mode, as she always was when she was alone.

  She tended to relax a bit when she was with others, letting them help watch her back as she watched theirs. But when she was solo she constantly scanned the area around her. The horizon in front of her. She frequently glanced back
to see if there was anyone sneaking up behind her.

  Jacob was impressed as he watched her. It only took him a few seconds to realize what she was doing, although she took no great pains to broadcast it. Jacob, despite the belief of many who saw him on the street, wasn’t slow or dimwitted. He was, in fact, quite intelligent.

  But not to the ways of self-preservation necessary in this newly harsh world they lived in.

  He wondered, as he watched her closing ground on him, whether some of the fights he’d gotten into could have been avoided if he’d adopted her way of travel long before.

  Perhaps he’d have been able to spot the trouble coming in time to avoid it.

  Perhaps he’d have been able to avoid some of the killing. Maybe even avoid some of the beatings he’d taken in recent months.

  Maybe that was her mission. Maybe God sent Jacob a guardian angel to teach him her ways of survival. Maybe it was her mission to counsel him and to work with him. To teach him to stay alive for… whatever God’s purpose was for him.

  And there was a greater purpose for Jacob. Of that he was sure, and had been sure for a very long time.

  Because if there wasn’t, he’d surely have been dead by now.

  He unlocked the door and pushed it open for her as she grew closer.

  She smiled when she saw him. And it made him smile in return, though no words passed between them as she entered the old station.

  She walked gingerly through the mess. Over the fan belts and oil cans and empty water bottles and candy wrappers.

  Past the boarded up windows and to the back of the room, where Jacob had long before cleared out a bit of the floor space.

  There she unrolled her bedroll, against the wall.

  Sleeping with her back to a wall, facing the entrance in whatever room she happened to be in, was another trick of survival she’d learned in recent months.

  Another thing Jacob had never thought of, but should have.

  She took one of the three blankets she’d brought with her and folded it again and again, until it was several inches thick and roughly the size as her roll.

 

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