Something in his pack rattled, betraying him.
Freezing, he listened to check if he had alerted anyone. He heard no sounds of alarm, no shouted cries, not even the sound of someone walking nearby, so he crouched and moved to a spot beside the house. From there, he peeked out around the corner.
Grunting sounds and squeaking bedspring were still coming from a window on the lower floor. Two of the men on the platform were still watching the house and laughing. The other two worked together in tandem with the spotlight and binoculars, continuing their argument about rabbits.
He withdrew from the corner and crept toward the twin blue Porta-Potty outhouses closer to the wall. A small light bulb mounted on a brown wooden post burned between them. One of the outhouse doors suddenly swung open. He immediately widened his stance and reached for the sword on his back.
Then he stopped himself from drawing it.
A small girl stepped out of the Porta-Potty. She was carrying a teddy bear. She blinked and clutched the bear tightly against her chest.
He kept his hand on the handle of the sword, waiting, watching.
She blinked again and looked left, looked right. “It’s okay,” she said, conspiratorially. “I know who you are.”
He did not feel comfortable around kids. He did not much care for them either. Raising a finger to his mouth, he made a keep silent gesture. His hand came away from the handle of his sword, and he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out the apple he had stashed there earlier. He wiggled it at her, figuring he could bribe her.
She smiled at him and let the bear drop to her side.
He did not return the smile, but gave her the apple. “You should not be out here on your own.”
She said nothing.
“You are not going to say anything about seeing me, are you?”
She shook her head.
There was something odd about her. It was also strange that they would let a child out alone so early in the morning. It did not make any sense. Even though it was dark, her eyes seemed different, almost distant, as if she were much older than she was.
“Help him,” she said.
“Who?” he asked.
“You’ll know.” She moved past him and started running. He turned to look at the wall he would have to climb, and then back at her.
She was already gone.
He listened for the cry of alarm, but none came. The perimeter wall was only a few feet from where he stood. He backed up a step to get a running start then lowered his head and ran up the side. At the top, he gripped the sharpened post and pulled himself up and over. He let go and dropped the six or so remaining feet to the ground, where he sunk to his hands and knees and listened.
Still no sounds of alarm, no cries of escape, not even the cries coming from the raptors in the trees. He heard nothing but the chirping of distant frogs.
After blowing a near silent whistle through his teeth, he got up, dusted himself off, and fixed the collar on his jacket. Then he ran off into the night.
-22-
DISCOVERY
THE SUN PEEKED through the curtains, and a shaft of light fell across Eve’s face. She curled her knees closer to her chest, not wanting to wake. Still in a daze of sleep, she patted the opposite side of the bed.
Something was missing, something important.
With a start, she came fully awake. A primal stab of fear replaced her initial grogginess. She sucked in a breath and held it, too afraid even to exhale. Sitting up, she patted the crumpled sheets, hoping he was still there and she was only failing to see him.
But he was gone. Cory was gone.
She looked to the door. It was closed. Could they have come for him in the night?
A breeze brushed her cheek. She turned toward the source. One of the curtains by the window was fluttering. It filled with air, and then deflated as if it were mocking her. Groaning, she rolled onto her side and curled up into a fetal position. She knew she couldn’t remain there for long, but she wanted to.
Scooting to the side of the bed, she fell out and landed on her knees, recovered, and then stumbled toward the window, blinking away the sleep from her eyes. She focused on the window frame for a moment, running her hands up and down along the side, checking for the nail that secured the window. It was missing as she had suspected.
“No, please, no,” she whispered, checking the window again.
Outside, Matt sat on a bench near the wall. His arms were folded and his head was bowed. His breath steamed in the cold. He might have been asleep. She stared at him for a few seconds. He did not look up, so she flipped him off.
“No,” she said to herself. “Why? Why’d you have to leave? I can’t tell him. No, not now.”
Noah was going to be pissed. He had little tolerance for failure, very little. Maybe she could blame it on Matt. He’d been sleeping, or at least not paying attention. How could someone just sneak past him like that? Yes, she’d let him take the heat. He was outside before she went to sleep. She’d checked. He was supposed to be guarding the window all night, along with Ryan. And where was Ryan? And how could those two clowns have failed to notice that the damn window was open? It was their fault, not hers. She couldn’t be blamed for this. Noah couldn’t hold her accountable. She’d done all that he had told her to do.
It wasn’t her fault.
She sat down on the side of the bed, crossed her arms over her belly, and began shivering. The beating Noah would give her, she could take, just as she had so many times before. But the failure? She hated to fail him. Anything he asked for, she did. She loved him so much and worked hard to make him love her. She’d just become his second-wife only months ago. That had been a real struggle. Only his first-wife, Jenny, stood in the way now. It always came back to her, to Jenny, that bitch.
Eve rubbed her face with her hands. She had to find a way to shift the blame, hopefully onto Matt or Ryan. Although, to find a way to somehow pin this on Jenny would be even sweeter.
A knock at the door startled her.
“Eve, you okay?”
Crap. It was Adam, her best friend. Maybe her only friend now.
“One sec,” she said. She had to think fast. Stepping into her jeans, she straightened her shirt and went to the door.
Adam came into the room. “Where is he?”
“He? He’s—”
Adam scanned the room, taking it all in. He stepped to the window and looked out through the curtains. He waved to someone outside, probably Matt.
“Where is he, Eve?”
“He? I don’t know. He’s… he’s gone.” She put her head down. She began to cry, her tears coming on command. “It’s not my fault. He—”
Adam gazed at her coldly. “Noah’s not going to be happy.”
“We can find him, right? Before I have to tell him?”
“No,” Adam said. “You’ll have to tell him. I’d suggest doing it sooner rather than later.”
“I can’t. He’ll kill me.”
“Not you. He won’t kill you.”
“You’re— no, he will. I know it.”
“I told you. He won’t.”
“Then, you do it. You tell him for me. Can you? Please?”
Adam nodded once and turned to leave.
A spike of panic raced down her spine. No, she thought. She couldn’t let him take the blame. He would do anything she asked him to do. But she couldn’t ask for this. Noah would know he wasn’t responsible.
“Wait,” she said, taking his arm. “I’ll… I’ll go do it.”
“You sure?” Adam said.
Squeezing his arm, she wiped her tears away with the back of her hand and then rushed past him into the hallway. He followed, keeping his distance. She made her way downstairs, walking past the peeling wallpaper, trying to come up with an excuse or story that would deflect the blame onto Ryan or Matt, or Jenny. Eventually, she ended up in front of a white door with a brass handle, Noah’s room. Standing there, she combed her hair with her hands and strai
ghtened her flannel shirt. She wanted to run, to bolt. It took all the courage she had not to. Swallowing hard, she hovered her hand over the plain wooden door for a few more seconds.
If she went through with this, she was going to get hurt. She knew it, deep-down. But she’d made her decision. Timidly, she knocked twice, waited, then placed her ear against the wood to listen for movement inside.
Someone in the room moaned. She knocked again.
After nearly a minute’s delay, and muttered curses from behind the door, Jenny answered. She was completely naked. The smell of musk and rank sweat drifted from the room.
“I need to see him,” Eve said.
“He’s busy. Go away.” Jenny started to shut the door, but Eve moved to block her, forcing Jenny to take a step backward.
“I have to speak with him. It’s urgent,” Eve said. She then brushed past her into the room.
Noah lay on his stomach on a king-sized bed with one leg dangling over the side. Even at his most vulnerable, she thought he was handsome.
He’s going to hate her.
“You should really leave him alone,” Jenny said.
“Shut up,” Eve replied.
She touched Noah on the back. He stirred. Slowly, he rolled over, pulling the sheets with him. After blinking a few times, he broadened his smile into a churlish grin. “Eve, my girl. What? What is it that you want?”
“It’s—”
“Come on girl, spit it out.”
“It’s, Cory. He’s gone.” She backpedaled away from the bed.
Noah swung his legs over the side and rubbed his face with his hands. He glared up at her. “How exactly?”
She suddenly regretted not running when she’d had the chance. His look of disappointment cut deep. “Early this morning, I think. Window. He went through the window. He got away. Someone was posted. Someone to watch, right? So I don’t know how he got away.”
Noah didn’t say anything for several seconds. She crossed and uncrossed her arms. Jenny sat on the far side of the bed, smiling, rubbing the tops of her thighs.
When Noah finally did rise from the bed, Eve cringed. She expected to be struck. Instead, he fetched a bathrobe from a hook, donned it, and walked past her and through the doorway.
She watched him leave in confused silence.
Jenny, still naked, got up and rested one hand on the edge of the door. “Leave,” she said.
As Eve went to leave, Jenny snorted derisively and twiddled one of her nipples. Eve glared back. She hated that bitch. She wanted to take a swing at her but didn’t. Instead, she bumped into her and knocked her against the edge of the door on her way out.
“Hey!” Jenny said.
Eve said nothing and hurried to catch up with Noah, who had gone to the living room at the front of the house. He turned to her as she joined him. His eyes burned away any resistance she had built up, and all of her excuses became lodged in her throat. She could never lie to him. Not even if it were to blame this all on Jenny.
Well, maybe.
For the briefest of moments, judging by his movements, she could sense that he was suppressing something. When he finally looked as though he was about to speak, she stared at his chin, keeping her eyes wide like a child who had done something wrong. She was prepared for the blow that would inevitably come. The last time he had hit her, he had loosened two of her teeth and blackened one of her eyes.
He pushed her backward with his fingertips, and she ended up sitting in a parlor chair. He stood over her, straddling her legs and looking down at her like a stern father. He raised a hand and made a fist.
She half-closed her eyes and braced for the impact. It would only hurt for a little while, maybe a day or two. She just hoped it would not make her ugly or do any permanent damage to her face. Maybe he would change his mind and punch her in the gut instead, or break one of her wrists, or—
But then she read his face. He wasn’t going to do any of that.
-23-
SMOKING
THE SUN HAD almost broken out from behind the mountains. Not a single cloud marred the yellow-hued dawn. A few rays of escaping light coming from between the peaks to the west landed on Cory, forcing him to squint to see the way ahead. If the weather held, he would make excellent time today, and that was exactly what he needed to do. Get as far away as he could from that compound and those country assholes before the next sunset.
While he was uncertain if Noah would attempt to send anyone after him, he would rather avoid any confrontations. Every step he took was one closer to his goal, Bunker 12. If he continued at his current pace, the crumpled map he kept folded in his jacket pocket told him that it should take less than a week. He still had Denver to get through, and how long that would take, he could only guess at.
Although he wanted to move quickly, he took the time to check the more promising vehicles along the road. In most, he found only dusty old bones, rusting metal, or hints of shredded clothing, but nothing generally useful. Nevertheless, he managed to find a single stick of wrapped gum and some road flares in the trunk of a Honda sedan that would replace the ones he had used as decoys. He found one other thing, too, a very lucky find, a sealed pack of cigarettes. He did have to dig them out from the desiccated remains of the driver, whose torso was resting not so peacefully against the car’s steering wheel, but the guy did not seem to mind.
Stopping to remove the canvas bag hung over his shoulder, he unzipped the flap on the side in order to stuff the cigarettes into a pocket. But, as he tried to put them away, they cried out to him like a tiny angry chorus, each one singing its own siren’s song. Just one, they sang. No harm in that. But he knew he could not stop at just one, so he quickly shoved them into his jacket pocket and tried to forget they were there.
As the hours passed, the sun rose through its zenith and began to make its descent over the mountains to the west. He had all but set aside the needling desire to smoke. But when he stopped to take a drink from one of his water bottles, the cigarette pack fell out of his jacket and landed in front of him on the slate-gray asphalt. He stared at it for a moment, considering whether or not to just kick the cellophane wrapped pack into the bushes on the side of the road and be done with it.
He could not bring himself to do so.
With a quick, sweeping motion, he snatched up the pack in his fingers and tore off the protective wrapper. He tapped out a smoke and stuck it between his lips. Using an old Zippo lighter, he lit the cigarette and inhaled. The hot, stale-tasting smoke filled his lungs, and the nicotine burst hit him almost instantly. It had been at least a week since he last smoked, and the cravings had not gone away. Smoking was a relatively new habit, too. He had picked it up along his route as something to do to fill the mindless hours of walking. Now he could not stop.
Exhaling through his nose, he let the smoke billow out into a cloud around his head. He pulled the burning stick away from his mouth and held it loosely between his stained fingers, staring at it. He was not entirely sure what burnt shit tasted like, but the cigarette tasted every bit as he imagined burnt shit would taste.
“Keep it up, and you will get cancer,” he mumbled to himself, snapping his lighter closed. He stared at the lighter. On one side it had a raised skull and crossbones. Death was all around him, so dying of cancer seemed like some far off, peaceful dream, considering the alternative.
While sucking in another lung full of stale smoke, his thoughts drifted to Eve. Her auburn hair, her bright smile, and the curves her breasts made when he had stolen a peek down her shirt. She felt so soft next to him. In retrospect, the thought she was willing to sleep with him had stunned him. Now, he wanted to kick himself for passing on the opportunity, or berate himself for being too much of a coward to do so. It might have been the last chance he ever had.
“She could not take it,” he said aloud, half-thinking of her desire to come along. She would never survive out here on the road, although, a little aid and comfort would have been nice. It was something he knew lit
tle of. Being raised by the New York State foster system had made him tough. The beatings, the bullying, the lack of anyone who gave a shit. He hated them for what they had done to him. But all of that paled in comparison with what his father had done. He had been six at the time and could still remember the screams.
During his hours of walking, he was surprised he had not seen signs of any raptors. Usually, they hid between the trees, in abandoned houses, or shadowed him from cover. He had noticed in his travels that they mostly ignored the countryside now that they had killed and eaten everything there. Instead, they clustered near the major cities, just like the city he was fast approaching.
Taking one last drag from the cigarette, he burned it down to the filter then flicked it from his fingers. He watched the butt arch gracefully in the air before hitting the pavement and raising a tiny shower of orange sparks.
Ahead, the sky was blue, but to the west, dark clouds were forming on the horizon. The weather near the mountains at this elevation was quite different from the flat states he had been through in the past months. Sometimes, a hot day here could turn cold and windy all within the span of an hour. If the clouds were to obscure the sun overhead, he would need to find a safe place to hide. The road that he was on had seen little evidence of passage by either man or beast. Highway I-25 lay to the east. Since he had not seen or heard anything traveling along it so far, the highway was probably safe.
Leaving the frontage road, he scaled a metal fence and made his way across a field to the interstate. From there, he crested a rise along the wide, four-lane road and began to descend into a shallow depression. A cluster of buildings ahead beckoned, offering to provide shelter for the night. A large pond, also not far away, was a welcome sight. It meant fresh water and maybe some fish. His stomach grumbled in anticipation as he thought back on his last meal. It would be dark in an hour or two, so it made sense to stop now and take shelter where it was readily available. He could try the pond tomorrow before getting back on the road, but not tonight. A solid-looking industrial building seemed like the safest spot. To get there, he would have to cross an open parking lot next to a gas station, which should prove easy enough.
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