His eyes hardened and his face turned red. He got in my face and started poking me in the chest with a big, thick finger. “Let me tell you something, you fuck-monkey. I don’t know who in the fuck you think you are, but I will decide what happens here and when it happens. You got that, shit-for-brains? Now march your ass back over there and keep your hands where I can see them. We haven’t even gotten started yet on all the weapons violations you’ve racked up.”
“Yes, sir,” I said as I retreated. Weapons violations? Was this cop going to haul me off to jail right in the middle of a nuclear war? Or worse, take my guns and leave me out here to die? I looked him over. He seemed like a cop, but not a city cop. The emblem on the side of his car said he was from a small town nearby. One thing was for sure, his eyes were all over Emma. The way her breasts looked in that tattered shirt, I can’t really say I blamed him. But still, I didn’t like it. I think he was treating me like shit to buy himself more time to eye-fuck Emma.
The more they talked, the more engaged they became. I felt pissed off, jealous, betrayed, and paranoid all at the same time. Strange combination of feelings but I can’t control how I feel. I decided to try to tamp down my emotions and let the other half of my brain work. My survival instincts told me this little moment with Emma was an opportunity. If I missed out on it, very shortly I might be sitting in the backseat of his cruiser. In handcuffs. Various scenarios flashed through my mind. I could take off running, but he’d probably take Emma and that wouldn’t be fair to her. Plus he might shoot me in the back. Cops know how to shoot, that’s for sure. I could go back over and try to see for sure where this was headed. Based on the last time I tried that, it didn’t seem like a very good idea. He’d made it quite clear he was in charge of everything, including where I could stand. I could shoot him in the head and we could take his car. Emma would freak out. What the hell, that seemed like the best option to me. Without any further hesitation, I lifted the rifle and fired off a shot.
The cop never saw it coming. The bullet struck him in the shoulder and it knocked him off his feet. Emma screamed as the cop slammed into the car and reeled back. I saw him reach for his gun so I shot him again. His head flew back and he fell to the pavement. He was breathing hard. I went and stood over him. I pointed the rifle right between his eyes.
Emma screamed, “Steen, no!”
I glared at the cop, his eyes desperate and uncertain. He struggled for air. I said, “I decided it was time for you to go. Boy.” I pulled the trigger and shot him point blank right between the eyes. His giant melon head exploded and blood and brains were everywhere all over the pavement.
I stepped back and the ringing in my ears was replaced by Emma screaming. I turned and grabbed her by the shoulders. “Emma! Emma! Get a hold of yourself.”
She screamed, “Oh my God, Steen! You shot a cop!”
“I know, I know. Come on, we have to get out of here.” I gestured to the car. I got in and she reluctantly followed. I started it up and did a 180.
“Steen, you shot a cop!”
“I know, and I feel really bad about it.” I stopped the car. “Stay here for a minute.” I left the car running and pressed the trunk release. Around back, I tried to put the cop in the trunk. His legs lifted pretty easily, but the rest of him was a different story. He was too heavy and I was too tired. I gave up and dragged him to the side of the road.
Emma rolled down her window. “What are you doing?”
“We can’t leave him out in the open.” I began taking off his uniform. There was a lot of blood where the bullets had entered, and his collapsed head was grossing me out – the bloody hair and eyeballs and chunks of brain and skull fragments. I tried to block it out as I stripped his clothes off. I threw the police uniform in the trunk, then I got back in the car and we took off. I left the dead cop in a ditch wearing nothing but his boxer shorts.
Chapter 25
We drove along the deserted road in the stolen police car with only the trees as our witness. I knew I couldn’t show up in the little town driving one of their cruisers so I figured I’d get as close as I dared and ditch it. After I’d put some distance between ourselves and the body, I slowed down to enjoy the air conditioning.
Emma was clearly in a state of shock. She repeated, “Steen, you shot a cop!”
I gave her a look but didn’t respond. After a moment, I asked, “What were you two talking about back there?”
“What difference does it make? He’s dead now.”
Silence.
She huffed and said, “He wanted to know if you had taken me against my will. That’s all.”
“What did you say?”
Incredulous, she answered, “I said no! I told him no, I was not here against my will.” After a minute she calmed down a bit. She added, “He wanted to know my full name, how old I was, where I was from – stuff like that.”
I nodded. “Okay.”
“Where are we going?” she asked.
“We’re driving this thing back to where it came from. I recognize the name of the town painted on the door. I’m not sure exactly how far it is, but this road takes us there.”
She shook her head. “I hope you know what you’re doing.” Then she lifted her shirt and exposed her breasts to the air conditioning vent. She looked at me and said, “My tits are hot.”
“They sure are.”
She didn’t respond.
A moment later she placed the gun I’d given her on the seat and pulled all her clothes off. She spread her legs and said, “My pussy is hot too.” She laughed. “Don’t say it.”
After driving a few more miles, I felt like I’d taken it far enough. I pulled to the side of the road and stopped.
Emma asked, “What are you doing?”
“I saw a sign a few miles back that said we were five miles out. We have to walk the rest of the way.”
“Can’t we go somewhere else? I mean, damn, this beats walking.”
“I thought about heading the other way, maybe finding a road that went around the town, but the car’s almost out of gas.”
“Oh.” She raised her butt off the seat and placed her pussy right in front of the vent. A distinctly feminine aroma filled the air.
I asked, “Does that feel good?”
“Oh, you have no idea.”
I let the car idle for a few minutes. Here I was in a stolen police car that I’d taken from a cop I’d just killed, sitting next to a nude and possibly underage teen who I’d had sex with last night. How do I get myself into these situations? Finally, Emma reached for her shorts and put them back on. I said, “Let me borrow your shirt for a minute.”
She handed it to me and I proceeded to wipe down the car for fingerprints. After we’d exited the vehicle, I wiped the door handles, too. I handed Emma her shirt back. As she put it on, I took a last look at her chest. Whoa momma. I started to tell her we needed to get her another shirt, then I thought better of it. That shirt looks damn good on her and I’m not her daddy. I put on my backpack and said, “You ready?”
“I guess. My feet hurt. I didn’t notice it as much before.”
“Me, too.”
We began walking toward the town. After a while, Emma said, “I’m hungry.”
“I know, but we are seriously low on supplies. That’s mostly why I wanted to come here.”
She didn’t respond.
I asked, “Do you regret coming with me?”
She thought for a moment. “No.”
“You sure?”
She looked at me and said, “You regret taking me?”
“Are you kidding? After last night? I have a new reason to live.”
She laughed. “Men. All you ever think about is sex. You’re all alike.”
“That’s not all I think about.”
“What, then?”
“I don’t know. I think about love and romance. Unicorns and flowers, butterflies and poetry. Stuff like that.”
She didn’t hesitate for a moment. “Bullshit.”
I laughed. “Okay, you’re right. But…I think about surviving. Water, shelter, food. I think about the threats out here on the street, an keeping us alive. On a grander scale, I think about the future. The future of our country, and what’s going to happen when—”
“Hey,” she interrupted, “look up there.” She pointed.
Up ahead in the distance I saw a group of men on the road. I kept watching, didn’t say anything. I checked to make sure the rifle and the pistol safeties were off.
“Steen, what are we going to do? Who do you think they are? It looks like they are waiting for us. Do you think they know about the cop?”
“No! Calm down. Whoever they are, they have no way of knowing about the cop. Let’s get our story straight. We are survivors making our way out of the city. We don’t know anything about any dead cops. In fact, we never even saw him. Just stay calm and we’ll be fine.”
The five men were standing in the middle of the road. Four of them looked like they were over forty, the other man was probably in his twenties. There were lawn chairs arranged in a semicircle behind them. They all had guns, an assortment of shotguns, hunting rifles, and the younger one had a revolver. I figured them for deputies or townspeople standing guard. One of the men stepped up. He had a broad face with a white beard and graying hair. He wore a green pair of shorts and a brown shirt. His pump-action shotgun was pointed in our general direction, but not directly at us.
The man held up a hand and said, “That’s far enough. Keep your hands where I can see them and state your business, please.”
About 50 feet separated us. I stopped and said, “Our business? We’re walking down the street. We don’t mean you any harm, we’re just passing through.”
One of the other men stepped up and whispered something into White Beard’s ear. White Beard said, “Send the girl and set your weapons on the ground.”
I asked Emma, “Are you okay talking to them?”
She shrugged. “Yeah, I guess.”
“Remember, we need to do this. We need food and water. I’ve got your back.”
“Okay.”
I admired her bravery. She was just a young girl and here she was out on the street surrounded by gunmen. I unclipped my rifle and set it on the pavement, then the pistol. Emma started towards the men. I snatched the pistol from her shorts and set it on the ground. She shot me a look, then continued.
White Beard asked her, “What are you doing with that man?”
First question, I thought. Really? Do I look that shady?
“We’re walking,” Emma said. “Walking away from the city because of the bomb.”
Another man stepped forward. He was tall with a bald head. He wore a dark blue button down short sleeved shirt and a pair of dirty shorts that used to be white. The deer rifle in his hands was pointed down at the ground.
Baldy said, “Let me see your teeth.”
Emma said, “What?”
I called, “You okay, Emma?”
She looked at me but didn’t answer. I took that as a no.
“Your teeth,” the man repeated. “Let me see them.”
“Why?”
“I want to see if your gums are bleeding.”
“No, my gums aren’t bleeding. Look.” Emma pulled her lips back. “You want to see my pussy, too? See if it’s bleeding?”
Baldy looked a bit shocked by her outrageous response. He said, “No need to get testy, miss. Who is that man with you? Is he your father?”
With only a second’s hesitation, Emma nodded and said, “Yes, he’s my father.”
Quick thinking.
White Beard called, “You can come over now.”
I reached for the guns.
He added, “Leave the guns there, please.”
I had to think about that. How did I know these were really townspeople? What if they were a bunch of scavengers who’d developed an elaborate scheme to rob people? Even if they were really townspeople, how did I know they would allow us through?
“Step away from the guns,” White Beard said.
I decided it was too risky. I called, “That’s okay, we were just leaving.” I picked up my rifle. One of the men pointed his rifle at me.
I shouted, “Come on Emma, let’s go.”
She started back my way. My eyes never left the man with the rifle. He relaxed a bit and the barrel drifted toward the pavement. I gave Emma a fatherly hug and stuck the pistol back in her shorts. I whispered, “Let’s get out of here.”
“What about food?”
“It’s not going to happen like this.” I started walking away from the men – backwards.
Emma asked, “What are you doing? That looks weird.”
“I don’t care how it looks. I don’t trust anyone out here. I’ve been shot in the back before, and believe me it hurts.”
I kept the rifle pointed to one side, not wanting to pose an imminent threat. But if one of the men so much as flinched, I was ready to waste them all. They likewise kept their eyes on me, weapons at the ready. After a bit I turned around and walked normally. I figured if they were scavengers they probably would have shot us by now. They got what they wanted, to repel the outsiders. I suppose that had been the cop’s goal as well. Too bad he’d been such an asshole. If he’d shown a modicum of respect like these men had, he might still be breathing.
Once the men were out of sight, Emma asked, “Now what are we going to do?”
“We’re going to have to go around them through the woods.”
“Are you kidding me?”
“I wish I was. We have four options here Emma. We can sit down and stay right here; we can go back to where we came from; we can go around them; or we can go through them.”
“Options,” she muttered.
“Yes, options. Life is about choices. Make the right choice and you win. Make the wrong choice and you lose. At any point in your life, you are the sum total of the choices you’ve made.”
“That’s heavy.”
“It is.”
She said, “Look, we already know there’s nothing back where we came from. We’re not staying here, and I don’t know what you mean by go through them but I’m guessing you mean kill all of them, right?” She looked to me for confirmation.
I didn’t deny it.
She said, “Okay, let’s go around them, then. If you can lead us through the woods then it’s definitely better than killing them.”
The brush along the roadside was thick but not impassible. I made my way to a small opening and Emma followed. The palm trees grow naturally in Florida and they’re everywhere. They all seem to be about knee-high and the palms are fairly sharp. We picked our way through maybe a mile of them along with the other underbrush and lots of spider webs. I wasn’t certain but it felt like we’d gone far enough to be beyond the men’s position. I was about to suggest we cut back toward the road when I saw a clearing up ahead. We trudged a little further and a house came into view. We had stumbled on a neighborhood. I picked my way through the brush and we found ourselves standing at the edge of somebody’s backyard. I wondered what we must look like to anyone watching from inside the house. Two filthy jungle people, no doubt.
I said, “Let’s see if anybody’s home.”
Emma looked exhausted. “I don’t care if they’re home or not. I’m starving and I’m dying of thirst.”
It was mid-to-late afternoon. We had blown right through lunch and the crackers we’d eaten for breakfast hadn’t stuck around very long. I reached into my bag and handed her a bottled water. “Don’t drink it all,” I said. “It’s the last one we’ve got.”
We shared the water standing at the edge of the backyard. Then I traversed the overgrown grass with Emma close behind. The house was a single story with wood siding painted a light shade of beige. A chimney rose above a steeply-sloped roof. A similar model sat on either side. It was one of those neigh
borhoods where every house looks the same. There were no fences so I hurried to limit our exposure to prying eyes. When we reached the sliding glass door I gave it a try but it was locked. I cupped my hands over the glass and looked inside. I thought I might have seen movement but I wasn’t sure. I leaned my rifle against the wall and removed my backpack, retrieving the crowbar and hatchet. A few well-placed pulls with the crowbar and the flimsy door came open.
Suddenly I saw a man inside the house. “Hey!” he yelled. “What do you think you’re doing?”
The crowbar clattered to the ground and I firmly grasped the hatchet in both hands.
Chapter 26
There wasn’t much of a struggle. Aiming for his chest, I chopped the man as hard as I could. The ax went deep inside and blood sprayed out like a firehose. I’d either scored a direct hit on his heart or severed a major artery. The force of the blow knocked him to the floor and I landed right on top of him, still clutching the ax. His eyes stared blankly ahead. He was already dead.
Emma screamed, “Steen! Jesus Christ! You killed him!”
I shushed her through clenched teeth. “The neighbors!”
Emma and I stood over the man for a minute. She shook her head and muttered, “Jesus Christ.”
I placed a foot on the man’s stomach and with considerable effort managed to extract the ax from his chest. I motioned for her to stay back. I whispered, “I need to check the rest of the house. Stay here and don’t shoot me.”
She retreated to the broken door.
The family room ran together with the kitchen, which ran together with the dining room. The builder had been stingy with the wallboard in this house. With the ax in hand, I moved toward what I assumed was the master bedroom.
I looked down and saw blood dripping from the ax. I was leaving a trail on the carpet. My God, what had I become? An ax murderer? I had literally become an ax murderer. And what was I going to do if I found other people in the house? Was I going to kill them with the ax, too? What if I found a child or even a baby? And what was the point? To maybe score a meal or two and some water? What had this world come to when a man’s life was worth nothing more than a paltry meal?
How to Survive a Nuclear War Page 14