“Leave that gun of yours on the seat and I’ll think of something. And be careful.”
Megan risked a glance down at George. The fear on her face told him how badly she did not want to go outside. There were tears welling up in her eyes, but she nodded slightly. As she opened the door and began to move, George slid his hand up and grabbed her arm gently, giving it a quick squeeze. She froze for a moment and then started moving again, allowing the gun to fall between her legs onto the seat. George let go of Megan’s arm and quickly discovered the warm metal of the .357 Magnum beneath his fingers.
Outside, Jeff was attempting to start a conversation with the man he hoped wasn’t planning on killing them.
“Hello! Are we glad to see you! We haven’t seen anyone living in quite—”
“Shut the fuck up and show me your hands.”
Jeff raised his hands higher. His captor kept the rifle trained on him but gave Megan a long hard look as she dropped down from the van and came out from behind the open door. She pushed it shut slowly and moved forward, her hands above her head as well.
“Look, I know things are screwed up, but there’s no reason to point a rifle at us. We don’t want any trouble,” Jeff pleaded.
“Yeah, right. Everyone is trouble these days. I’m not taking any chances.”
Jeff tensed and took a closer look at the man who had ambushed them. His tone of voice was cynical but not sinister, and he certainly didn’t look like some sort of bandit.
He had on expensive loafers and a pair of dirty black designer jeans. As if that weren’t enough, the alligator logo on his shirt confirmed he wasn’t some farmer trying to ward poachers off his land. His reddish-blond thinning hair was an unkempt mess, and the bags under his eyes testified to the fact that he had suffered through many sleepless nights lately. His soft, round appearance betrayed the fact that he had not endured much in the form of hardship throughout his life. At least not until the plague had come along and spoiled everything. Jeff knew he was looking at a desperate scavenger, and nothing more.
“Move away from the van. Come toward me, slowly...okay, stop there.”
Jeff and Megan were about ten feet in front of the grill of the minivan and about twice the distance from their yuppie captor, who had backpedaled as they came forward.
“Look, Mister…?” Megan said in a timid voice. She could see that the man in front of them was nervous, his eyes darting back and forth between her and Jeff. She inched forward slightly, hoping against hope that she could talk their way out of this mess.
The rifle swung in her direction. She froze and felt her legs go numb.
“Bitch, shut the FUCK up and stay right where you are!”
The man’s grip on the rifle tightened, and despite the residue of nervousness about him, he was able to keep it pointed directly at her heart.
“Hey, man! Take it easy! We don’t have any weapons,” Jeff shouted, hoping to turn the attention back to him and away from Megan.
He got his wish and found himself staring down the barrel of the rifle once again.
“I told you to both to SHUT UP! I meant it. I don’t want to have to kill you!”
Jeff could hear panic in the words. The urban “warrior” holding the expensive rifle on them was sweating profusely and blinking like crazy. As the man’s eyes danced back and forth between his two prisoners, Jeff began to worry about the aggressor’s mental stability.
After a few moments, their captor calmed down enough to look past them toward the van. Inching to his right to see around Jeff and Megan, he scanned the vehicle with an appraising eye.
The Odyssey had definitely seen better days. It looked like it was getting ready for the demolition derby. The windshield was still in one piece, but there were several growing spider web cracks in it. Deep gouges ran along the sides, the front was dented to hell, and the grill had snapped in several places. The outer casing of one of the headlights had shattered, and there were splatters of blackened goop in most of the available nooks and crannies. An attempt to clear away the spray of blood and chunks of flesh on the windshield had done little more than create a smeared haze. It was a mess.
“Anyone else in there?” the man holding them prisoner asked Jeff. When he didn’t get an immediate response, he continued. “You better tell me right now if you know what’s good for you...all of you. ANYONE IN THERE?” His eyes didn’t leave Jeff as he threw the question toward the van. “COME ON OUT NOW AND EVERYTHING’LL BE OKAY.”
The scavenger suddenly smiled, trying to show that he could be good natured if need be.
“Bobby?” He leaned his head back as he spoke, throwing his words behind him.
“Yeah, Dad?”
The voice came from the house. Jeff looked toward the structure and saw that the front door was wide open. A young man stood there with another rifle pointed at him. At first glance, it looked like he was a teenager, and there was no doubt he was the man’s son. Get rid of the older man’s round gut and thinning hair, and they were spitting images of one another. Bobby held his rifle in a relaxed stance as he squinted down the sight. His did not have a scope, but Jeff could see he had a bead on him. The boy did not move away from the doorframe even after his father called to him, preferring to remain close to cover.
Jeff gritted his teeth and cursed under his breath. Things were getting worse by the minute.
“You got them covered?”
“No prob, Dad.”
“Good boy.”
The father’s smile grew larger. His nervousness had diminished greatly. He nodded toward his son but stared at Jeff as his voice dropped to a near whisper. “My boy’s a good shot...a hell of a lot better than me. He used to hunt with his uncle all the time.” The father moved closer and looked at Jeff conspiratorially. “Now I might be a little nervous about shooting you, but Bobby there...well, if I tell him to shoot, he’ll do it, no questions asked.”
More teeth were displayed as the crooked grin got even wider. “Now, you do believe me, don’t you?”
Jeff stared at the father and then past him to the son, whose rifle was still pointed at his head. He nodded.
“Good. Then we understand one another.”
The man took a step back, and his chest swelled. He took another look at the van.
“Now I’m going to ask just one more time. Is there anyone else in there?”
Jeff took a deep breath and held it for a moment before letting it out slowly. He smiled, matching his opponent’s grin tooth for tooth. His confidence elevated slightly when he saw the brave façade on the other man’s face start to crack. Making his decision in that split second, he shook his head in denial.
“You better not be fucking with me. You do realize that, don’t you?”
Jeff continued to grin.
After another few seconds of staring at Jeff, Bobby’s father looked at the van again. He squinted at it, a curious look on his face.
“So what’ve you got in there? Food? Water?”
“Uh huh. Medicine too. All kinds of stuff.”
Jeff’s head swiveled over to Megan, and his grin faltered.
“We could share it with you.”
Now both men were looking at her, their eyes growing wide with surprise.
“Please, we could help each other out!” Megan sounded desperate and excited as Jeff silently fumed beside her. “If we give you some of our food and medicine, you could let us stay here tonight.” Suddenly, she was on a roll and seemed to forget all about the gun pointed at her. “I think we should stick together instead of fighting one another. We won’t cause you any trouble, I swear to God! We just want a place to rest and then we’ll move on. It’ll be like we were never here at all...except you’ll have a lot more food for you, your son, and whoever else is with you.”
Jeff watched their captor’s expression, and his hopes rose when he appeared to actually consider Megan’s offer. At least that seemed to be the case until she spoke her last few words. Then, it was as if a switch had be
en flipped, and his face contorted in rage.
“Lady, my son and I are alone, and we intend to keep it that way. We don’t need anyone else screwing things up for us. We survived this long without any outsiders, and we sure as hell don’t need you hanging around causing us even more grief than we’ve already had.” He shook his head in contempt. “Shit, you probably drew enough attention with your goddamn van to wake up every one of those fucking bastards in a three-mile radius.”
“No! No! Listen, we—”
The man raised his voice, ignoring Megan’s protests. “So my son and I are going to let you deal with whatever shit you stirred up. That minivan of yours is our ticket out of here.”
“No! You can’t take the van!”
“Shut up, Megan!” Jeff jumped in before she could provoke the man toting the rifle any further. Jeff shook his head and glared at her, a rabid expression on his face. Megan’s mouth slammed shut and she took a step back.
“Look...can you please tell us your name at least?” Jeff turned back to the man, the words flying out of his mouth as he tried desperately to regain control of the situation.
“You don’t need to know what my name is, pal. Once my son and I leave, it’ll be the last you’ll ever see of us.”
“So it shouldn’t matter, right? Look, I know your son’s name, and let’s face it; we’re not going to have an APB put out on you, are we? I just want to know who I’m dealing with.” Jeff had regained his composure enough to try another smile, this one a bit meeker than before.
The man holding them at gunpoint stared hard at Jeff and started to say something but stopped himself. He rolled his eyes and lowered the gun slightly as he made a noise that sounded like a frustrated laugh. Jeff tried to inject even more warmth into his smile.
“Dad? What’re you doing?”
Jeff could tell from Bobby’s voice that he was getting nervous, just like his father.
“It’s under control, son, just relax and keep your pants on!” Dad said, his frustration starting to wear on him.
He looked at Jeff again and sighed. “The name’s Fred, for all the good it’ll do ya.”
Jeff increased the wattage of his smile. “Well, Fred, my name’s Jeff. This is my wife, Megan.”
He held his breath and prayed Megan would play along. When she didn’t stare at him in surprise, Jeff relaxed slightly. All he knew was that he had to keep stalling and try to give Fred a reason to feel guilty about what he was doing.
“I can’t believe we’ve made it this far. We somehow managed to get out of town after everything fell apart. Those things were all over us. Honestly, I’m just glad to be here.” Jeff looked over at Megan affectionately. She seemed a bit disoriented from his lie but smiled disjointedly back at him. He inched closer to her until the rifle began to elevate once again. Jeff held up his hands in appeasement and stopped.
“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Fred remarked irritably. “I’m going to take a look at the van. We want to be out of the area by nightfall. You and your wife can jaw all you want about how you escaped the city after we’re gone.” He started toward the van.
“Where’s your wife, Fred?”
When Fred stiffened and the color disappeared from his face, Jeff knew he had struck a nerve. He hadn’t had an idea what he was going to say until the words tumbled out of his mouth. Something had been gnawing at him since he had stepped out of the van, and now he realized what it was.
“Is that her grave?” Jeff pointed to the marker they had noticed while driving up to the property: the makeshift cross and the freshly turned dirt. The disturbed earth was long and wide enough for an adult to be buried underneath it.
“Is that Bobby’s mother?”
“Shut up.” It was a growled threat.
Jeff kept pressing. “I’m just wondering, because we had to bury two children back in Milfield. They got bit, got the plague, and we had to watch them die, Fred. So I was just curious if you might understand what we’ve been dealing with.”
“SHUT UP, GODDAMMIT!” Fred screamed, his eyes closed as he pointed the rifle like a spear at Jeff’s chest.
“Dad, what’s wrong?”
Bobby was finally moving off the porch toward them. He was almost running and still trying to point the rifle at the two prisoners. He stopped a few feet away, but Jeff could see the agitation on his face. Like his father, he was taller than average, but he was still growing into his body. Back on the porch, he looked like he meant business. Up close, even with a rifle in his hands, he looked like nothing more than a confused kid.
Fred almost turned to face his son but held his position and glared at Jeff. “Get the hell back to the porch! NOW!” Bobby hovered for a couple of moments before reluctantly backing up.
Jeff kept the look of misery on his face. The bluff he was trying to pull off was far too close to the truth for him not to feel some of the pain he was projecting.
“Fred, please. We’re just trying to survive here. We’ve already seen way too much death. Haven’t you?” He leaned forward as hate burned in the other man’s eyes. “Why don’t we help each other out so we can all get out of here together?”
The butt of the rifle connected with his jaw so quickly that Jeff barely saw it coming. Fred had been moving closer ever since the other man started talking, but when Jeff leaned forward, he presented an irresistible target. There was no pain as he fell to the ground; the clipped scream of surprise from Megan was the first thing he noticed after nearly getting his jaw dislocated.
The blow rattled his teeth and knocked him flat, but as Jeff moved his hand up to his jaw, he wasn’t quite sure what had happened. When the pain finally came a few seconds later, it started as a dull throb.
“Stay away from him, you asshole!” Megan scrambled to Jeff’s side, grabbing him around the shoulders and shielding him from any further attacks. Fred was done, though. He stepped back, his rage sated for the moment. He looked more confused than ever, and the reprimand from Megan seemed to give him pause.
“Bastard.”
The expletive was whispered as Megan examined Jeff’s jaw, touching the rising welt delicately. His head moved back quickly after her fingers hit the raw spot, and he sucked in air through his teeth. She relaxed a little when she realized his jaw wasn’t broken.
Megan looked up at Fred. Her eyes were hot flares that burned straight through him. He stepped back, giving her the chance to help Jeff, first to his knees and then to his feet. Jeff gingerly rubbed his jaw as he glared at Fred, who was too busy looking at the van again to care.
“Where’s the keys? Give ‘em to me.”
“Fred—”
“I’m tired of this shit! That IS my wife over there, and I was the one who had to put her down! Satisfied? Happy to know I had to deal with the same shit you did, you fucking prick?” Fred’s eyes were full of fire as he spoke. “In about two seconds, if you don’t hand over those keys, I swear to God I’ll be digging two more holes!”
The rifle was in Jeff’s face again, but this time he could see no doubt on Fred’s visage. The ruse had backfired, and there was nothing else to do. Eyes darting quickly over to Bobby, Jeff saw that the boy’s rifle was pointed in their direction, but his eyes were glued to his father.
“Keys are in the ignition.” Jeff grimaced at the pain that speaking brought. He leaned against Megan, still a bit woozy from the blow.
“Stay here,” Fred commanded. “Bobby? Don’t let them out of your sight! I’m checking out the van.”
“Okay, Dad.” Bobby sounded nervous, almost depressed, but the gun remained elevated and his eyes focused on the two clinging figures thirty feet in front of him.
Jeff waited until Fred had walked away before he whispered in Megan’s ear, “Get ready.”
She stiffened and looked him in the eyes. Nodding almost imperceptibly, Megan tensed. She knew George had her gun.
Fred moved to the van. He glared at Jeff one last time and pointed his weapon at the vehicle. Moving in, he glanced quickly
through the tinted windows behind the driver’s door. He looked closer for a moment. Satisfied, he inched up and stared inside. There were the keys, dangling from the ignition, just as Jeff had said. He did not see anyone, just a jumble of boxes and other crap strewn about, as if the minivan had been through an earthquake.
Fred allowed himself a small grin as he moved the rifle to his left hand and pointed it skyward. Opening the door, he leaned in. The keys were pushed into the ignition completely, and the van started chirping in annoyance. He twisted the key and the engine turned over. The idle was a quiet purr, and the gas needle bounced from empty to almost full...a smidge below. His grin widened.
The thrill lasted less than a second before he heard a distinct click.
Fred froze, his rifle pointed straight up and, inconveniently, still outside the vehicle, along with his left arm. His head, chest, and right arm were completely exposed. He slowly turned his head at a downward angle and confirmed the fact that there was a handgun pointed at his face.
George was sprawled on the floor, a blanket covering him except for the top of his head and the barrel of the gun, which was pointed at Fred.
“Drop the rifle. DON’T move your head or even twitch a muscle.”
It came out in a hiss. The man above him was glaring down with a mixture of anger and resentment. George returned the look.
Fred paused for a moment, taking a deep breath. He looked like he was thinking over George’s command when he saw a head pop up from behind the second row of seats. Jason was holding Jeff’s gore-stained baseball bat.
“You better do as he says.”
“Jason! Get down. NOW!” George commanded. The boy kept his eyes on Fred as he ducked down to where he could still peek over the seat.
Fred dropped the rifle and raised his hands, leaning out of the van but moving slowly. He continued to stare at Jason as George spoke to him.
“Now call off your pal out there. Do it! I want our friends safe and sound back inside the van.”
Fred stared down at the .357 Magnum. The look on his face made it clear he most definitely did not want to do as he was told. He began to turn away from the van but stopped quickly as the gun rose up and the boy in the back of the vehicle moved forward. Looking at both of them, Fred seemed to change his mind.
B00BDBO28Q EBOK Page 15