For Richie, it had been pure fascination for that short time. He studied his friend
expectantly.
Elvis surprised all of them by turning to his backpack and digging through it for some unknowable thing. Buddy looked to Richie, who could only shrug and wait along with him. A full minute of muttered half-curses broke the quiet before Elvis raised his hand in victory. It was filled with a bag of ball bearings. In his other hand was the slingshot all of them had forgotten about. Richie could do nothing but smile at the other man, sure that he was about to tell them something either special or awful. Richie decided that it would probably be both.
Nothing again. Elvis stood, limping out of their gathered area with a finger held to his lips. Benny opened his mouth to say something, but Buddy put a hand on his shoulder to silence it. He repeated Elvis' gesture, hushing the man with a finger to his mouth. Benny looked angry. He said nothing, which meant he was going to listen for once. Richie kept his eyes on Elvis.
It was comical, watching his friend walk so lightly, almost on tip-toes in spite of his injury, until he was within shooting distance of the corner. Richie realized what he was about to do and felt his face run through the exercises that Elvis' had performed not so long ago.
Elvis pulled the rubber sling backward, the thrum of it barely audible, and aimed in the darkness. Buddy and Benny had both turned to watch, as well.
THWACK!
"Got you, sucker," Elvis whispered for the first of an uncountable succession of times.
THWACK!
Another shot was followed by that same whisper. Elvis made a circuit of the building the band of his sling pouring death upon the rodents that had been hiding in the darkness so peacefully.
The others, Richie included, stayed quiet, waiting for the inevitable with a mixture of emotions. They would accept what they needed to do, but it would be a fight, one of inner combat. Richie was already there, had surpassed his disgust, and was working through how they would cook the things. He would eat rat, but if it could be avoided, not raw rat.
<><><>
"You gotta be kidding me," Benny said as he looked at the pile of rats Elvis had collected.
"Ten," Buddy said after a silent count, "Nice shooting, man."
"Thanks," Elvis replied, still holding that firm expression he'd adopted before the hunt had commenced.
"We're really going to do this, aren't we?" Benny asked.
"We need to clean 'em," Elvis said in answer.
"I can do it."
They all turned to Buddy, who'd taken off his glasses to wipe sweat from both his forehead and the lenses. His eyes were squinting in the way that all wearers of corrective lenses imitate. Richie knew that he couldn't see a thing without the specs on and had a wild urge to flick him in the nose, or something similar.
The need passed, allowing him to stare at Buddy in the same dumbfounded way that the others had adopted. When Buddy put the glasses on, he jerked back slightly. He hadn't realized he'd been given an audience.
"What?" Richie asked.
"How in the hell do you know how to clean a dead animal?" Benny queried, “I’ve never heard you talk about hunting, or anything like that.”
"How in the hell do you know to leave your sister's window open for me at night? It's just something I picked up. I'm really thankful for that, by the way."
"Don't have a sister," Benny said with a grin.
"Oh. My mistake then. It must've been your mom's room."
They had a small laugh, taking the time to jab at each other's insecurities while Buddy looked for the small pocket knife he'd picked up. His comrades watched as he flicked open the blade and checked its sharpness by running the edge along his forearm. A few hairs came away with the cutting side and he blew them into the air.
"If you must know, Benny the Dick, my uncle taught me one summer."
"Don't call me that."
"When was this?" Richie broke in.
"Like seven or eight years ago, but I still have the gist of it in here somewhere," Buddy explained, tapping the side of the knife against his forehead.
"Well go ahead," Elvis urged.
It was harder than Buddy remembered it being. The first animal was ruined, the meat cut into small slivers and mixed with pieces of bone, but the second was better. By the fourth, Buddy looked like he knew what he was doing.
Richie watched, interested and disgusted by the work at the same time. Oddly enough, his mouth had begun to water. The cooking method was still up for grabs, so Richie made them aware that it was a concern.
"We could toss them outside," Buddy joked, his face turning serious an instant later, "Actually, we could."
"I guess," Richie answered uncertainly, "It's kind of like a microwave, right?"
They agreed, though each man was loath to sleep on an empty stomach when there was meat available. It wasn't preferable to a well-prepared filet mignon, but they were hungry enough to ignore that fact.
"It's the weirdest thing," Buddy said, "They smell like a mix of tortillas and piss, but I'm so hungry I'm tempted to eat one raw."
"Wouldn't be the first time you did that, would it?" Richie asked, causing all of them to laugh fully for the first time in days.
"Have I told you to eat me raw, lately?" Buddy asked thoughtfully, "Because I've meant to."
"If Elvis hadn't become the great white hunter, I might've had to."
Elvis sat back, proud and beaming. He'd saved the day with his idea, keeping himself alive for a little longer in the process.
Benny took the job of tossing the little skinless bodies outside, a rarity for the man who tried to shirk most extra duties, opening the door from the side so that he wouldn't be touched by the rays of daylight. They could hear the things land, but would have to search for them come nightfall.
No one went out before the sun was fully down for an hour or more since their experience in St. Petersburg. It was always cooler after dusk, anyhow, and cooler times were what each of them was walking toward.
Richie lay down on his pallet, his stomach growling angrily as he turned onto his side. It was a chorus of like sounds when the others took their own places for sleep. It would be good to eat, though he was a bit nervous about the rodents.
Rats were disease carriers. Any of them could contract something from the meal, but none of the others had mentioned it. He didn't plan to either. If they didn't eat, they would die. It was a simple concept and the idea of getting sick was far less important than the idea of staying alive.
He heard Buddy's snoring begin, listened as Benny's breath went shallow and wheezy, and waited for Elvis' sleep sounds. He fell to sleep himself before they came, but just as the curtain closed on his waking hours, Richie thought he heard his friend laughing quietly.
If Elvis was happy, Richie was happy.
Chapter 5
Valdez, AK
September 2, 2021
3:10 AM 77*
"When we managed to find the dirty little bodies after dark, there was no hesitation. Man, that was the best and worst meal I've ever had. The sun wasn't up to its full potential yet, so the meat was only half-cooked and bloody as hell."
Amanda didn't say anything in response. She was smiling faintly at the memory of their friend. Elvis wasn't often far from her mind, his kindnesses always popping up at the edge of any situation. Richie's stories were like a memorial for him, for Benny too, though she hadn't known him. She kept listening to the man's talk, not wanting to interrupt.
"I remember thinking that the meat looked a little like lamb while Buddy dressed them that first time, but I haven't really compared it since. The taste took that thought away pretty quickly."
The crunch of dust between their boots and the road filled the void left by Richie’s silence. He'd come back to the real world, reluctant to leave the past in his memories, and fought the urge to hide in the dream world of his thoughts.
They would need to think about reality soon, or it would be drastically shortened f
or both of them. Even as he'd been speaking, his eye searched for some kind of shelter along the highway.
"Have we ever been this way before?" he asked Amanda while nodding at the road they were on, “I thought I knew where we were. Now, I’ve got my doubts.
"It's familiar," she admitted, "But I'm not completely sure. Any idea how far away we are from camp."
"Not a clue."
"How about what time it is?"
"I am the man with no knowledge."
"We'll know soon."
"Yeah. It should start heating up at around four, but I think we need to figure something out before that happens," Richie said, his fingertips going to the mottled skin that had once been his left eye, barely feeling the sensation with either his scarred flesh or his callused fingers.
"We can't really leave the road, Richie. If we do..."
"We might get lost. I think we might already be lost, but let's take one thing at a time."
Good idea.
"Thanks," Richie replied to Elvis' voice.
Amanda barely noticed the extra line of conversation that Richie was keeping. He didn't even notice it himself, this time. It was like walking with the real Elvis, though there was no way to see or touch his friend.
That would've been a bad sign. If he started actually seeing his dead friends, Richie would know that his mind was past the point of healing, that he would soon have to give up all responsibility to the people he was with. Someone who couldn't find the line between reality and fantasy would be a risk to them all.
"Richie," Amanda said, "How did we get out?"
He looked to her, sharply, surprised by the question and how similar it sounded to the ones he'd been hearing from his inner voices. Richie's eye shot downward to the road.
"You don't remember anything?" he asked.
"No."
"The feeders were busy with someone that they'd just brought in. You were in another room when the shit hit the fan."
"Okay," she said, "But what happened?"
He took a deep breath, steeling himself for the telling of another story, and found that it didn't help. Richie thought about what he should convey to her, versus the actual truth of the thing, for a long while. Amanda was patient, allowing him time to gather his thoughts. When Richie turned to her the whole truth was on his tongue, but nothing wanted to come out.
You have to tell her that much, Richie, Benny told him, you have to tell her the truth.
Not all of it, Elvis added in a gentle voice.
Shut up, King. He can't just lie to her.
He don't have to lie. He just don't have to tell all of it.
"They came in, three of them, with a new body. It was a man. He'd been beaten pretty badly and I'm fairly sure he was almost dead, anyway," Richie began jerkily, remembering the advice from Elvis, "They left him on the floor and just turned and walked out. Some of the others were on him. The other survivors, I mean. They were on the guy fast and I think they were going to finish him off for... They were going to put him out for his own good, I think."
He swallowed, tasting bile and feeling something in between one of his teeth with the tip of his tongue. Richie's eye started to water and he used a knuckle to clear it. The goings-on weren't pretty, one way or another, but he knew that telling Amanda all of it might change something between them. He kept going, his words still hesitant, but not nearly as jerky or gapped.
"I stayed back in a corner. The screaming started right after they got to him, started in on him, and I could hear the feeders running to the door to see what was going on. I waited, knowing that it might be my only shot at getting out of there.
“Amanda, you have to know that I didn't know if you were alive, or not. Right then I was thinking about me and only me. If I hadn't seen you, I'd have probably left thinking that you were dead."
She nodded, her face shadowed by the darkness, unreadable at that moment. He tried to see any feature, any emotion that might be obvious, but could not. His feet drug in the dirt on the paved path from time to time, making a scuffing sound with every fifth step, or so. He wondered if her feet were doing the same, but went on without really thinking about it.
"I waited until all of them were in the room before I jumped. All six had come in at close to the same time and were trying to get the prisoners off of the new guy, screaming and throwing people every which way. When I saw my chance, I... I jumped the last guy in and put him down. The other ones were so busy that they didn't even notice me. I took two more down before the rest turned around. That gave the other prisoners a chance and they really took it. I didn't even have to touch the last two feeders."
"Serves them right," Amanda added, "Freaks."
"Yeah. That's what I think."
"You left the door open?"
"What?"
"When you got out. You left the door open so that the others could run, didn’t you?"
"Yeah," Richie said, really lying for the first time, "As soon as they were down I ran out the door, found you, and carried you out with me. They had you on the table and... We got out just in time."
Ahh. The short version, huh Richie?
Shut up, Benny. She don't need to know the rest.
"You're always saving me, Richie. Thanks for that."
Richie smiled at her, nodding in the dark. He'd done quite a bit of saving when it came to Amanda, but that didn't matter. The things he'd done, things that couldn't be avoided, were under the radar and that was good enough thanks for Richie. As long as she didn't ask about anything else, everything would be fine.
"There was a time when I wasn't the great savior that I am now," Richie said with a laugh, glad to have gotten past the story of their escape without causing any type of damage.
<><><>
Remerton, GA
August 4, 2020
10:32 PM 94*
Medical supplies weren't their highest priority when they’d been preparing to leave Miami, so each of them had used his paltry stock by the time they saw the drug store sitting just off of the highway. The four men curved toward it with little in the way of debate, understanding that the contents of the place would need to be pilfered if they were to continue patching small wounds. None of them had become ill from the meals they'd been making recently, so drugs weren't necessarily the focus. It was all about disinfectants and bandages.
Elvis was walking more normally in the last couple of nights, which was a relief to Richie, and he didn't seem to be in the type of agony he’d suffered in the first few evenings. They would have to pick up some ibuprofen or Tylenol for the daily discomforts, but Buddy had warned against snatching any heavy pain killers. The possibility of overdosing was too high in days where pain was an almost constant companion. No one argued the statement.
"How are you with those picks now, Richie?" Benny asked as they reached the parking lot of a mom and pop Rx.
"Better than when we started."
"You might get some practice," Buddy said.
The front entrance, along with most of the storefront, was glass. If Richie couldn't get in with tools, they would still manage with the butt of a pistol. There was no need to attract attention, but beggars couldn't be choosers.
Richie set to work, putting the thin angled bar of the tension wrench into the keyhole and selecting a pick from the kit. He went at the tumblers slowly, trying to feel his way into the lock. One shifted into place almost immediately, but there were a few more that he would have to contend with. The padlocks he'd practiced on were easier by far. It took nearly five-minutes to make the lock turn with the others watching him.
“Do I need to find a brick?” Buddy asked.
“Get bent,” Richie replied, drawing giggles from the others.
When the door pulled partially open, all of them smiled at the accomplishment. There were pats on the back along with one remark about his lack of speed as they walked into the drug store without a care for stealth. Each man took his own route, looking for what suited his needs, and began to
scour the shelves. Most of the racks were still full of stuff, but the bulk of it was useless to them.
“Which one of you guys needed the tampons?” Benny asked, holding a pack of them in the air, “They have a great deal on adult diapers over here, too.”
“Man, it’s been so long since I’ve pissed more than a few drops that a diaper would be a waste,” Richie remarked, soliciting laughter and agreement from his companions.
"This couldn't have been one of those stores that sells food, too," Buddy remarked as he passed Richie in one of the aisles, “We just had to pick the smallest drugstore we’ve passed.”
"Wouldn't matter, anyway," an unfamiliar voice said mildly.
Richie turned to the direction from which the declaration had come, looking for whomever had made the sound, and saw only the barrels of a shotgun. He nearly fell back, his body automatically trying to jerk away from danger, but his mind kept him still. The man on the other end of the gun hadn't told him not to move, but it was an assumption that Richie felt safe in making. The weapon seemed to wobble in a slow circle, barely moving, but showing that its owner was shaky about what he was doing.
The others stayed where they were, coming to the same conclusion as the young man being aimed at. The guy was older than them, a full gray beard being the indicator, with long hair that looked as if it had always been that way. His clothing wasn't much different than theirs, other than the sweat soaked shirt that he was wearing. Richie barely saw the stranger. His eyes couldn't see past the weapon that was so close to his face.
A strong voice in his mind, the voice that we all have when a situation is imminently dangerous, told him to grab for the barrels of the weapon, to shove it to the side and attack the man. His fear overcame that voice and kept him in place.
"Why don't you boys just lay your sacks on the floor nice and slow. That's right," he said as all of them did as they'd been commanded, "Now just back away from that stuff."
Walking Back (The Dark Roads Book 2) Page 5