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The Longest Road (Book 2): The Change

Page 37

by Thompson, A. S.


  West, Collin, and Nick pushed the girls behind them, unsure about who was inside. Soon after, their fears subsided when Travis Goessling exited the driver's door.

  Collin sighed.

  “Thank God you're back. Where's Ste…”

  Steve Brason slowly opened the passenger's side door. He slid out from the leather seat. His movements were slow and stiff. He offered no greeting, no pleasantries. Nothing was said. He didn't even look at the others. Instead, he walked to the back of the SUV and opened the trunk.

  Meanwhile, Travis opened up the door behind his and signaled for assistance. “One of you guys help me out?”

  West hustled over and helped Travis pull out an unknown man. The others stood by anxiously.

  “Who's that, Travis?” Nick asked.

  “Some guy. Not sure. He got knocked in the head pretty good. He's been in and out of consciousness, so I haven’t had a chance to ask.”

  With West’s help, Travis carried the unknown man over to the others. On his way, Travis looked behind at Steve, then turned to the girls and said, “Hey, can you girls come over here and help me out with him?”

  Travis was privy to a sacred truth. One he was hoping to delay for as long as possible. To steer away the shock- at least for a little longer. In the end, it didn't matter, though. Steve had already come around from the other side.

  “Sarah!” Jenny gasped. The young girl attempted to take a step toward Steve, but Lisa grabbed on to her wrist and pulled her back.

  “Is that Sarah?” Jenny continued. “Sarah are you okay? Steve what's wrong with Sarah? Why isn't she talking? Sarah it's me! It’s Jenny.”

  The others realized what Jenny had been unable to process. They read Steve's cold, white face. His utter hopelessness.

  Steve walked with the pace of a pallbearer. Eyes forward, path heading toward the RV. He held Sarah's body tight to his like a precious newborn, but her extremities swayed with each soft step.

  “Steve, brother...” Collin tried to say, but all words escaped him. He wanted to rush to his cousin’s side. He wanted to embrace Steve tightly and console him. Tell him how sorry he was.

  Collin wasn't sure what had happened, how Sarah had passed away. But those questions didn't matter. Neither did his own infliction with Trinity. Everything paled in comparison to Sarah’s death.

  “Come on, Jenny,” Nick said, ushering her inside the Ranger's station. “I have something I need to tell you. You can see her soon. Steve needs a minute with her.”

  “No! I don’t want to go anywhere with anyone!” Jenny exclaimed, breaking away from the adults. Her little legs carried her to the beach, away from everything that hurt.

  Lisa and Kelly took off after her, saying, “We’ll watch over her.”

  Nick lifted his head and sighed.

  “How can things get any worse?”

  “Let’s just pray it doesn’t,” Collin answered. “You go with Travis and West. I'll meet up with you shortly. I'm going to be with Steve. If you can, try to figure out what happened, but make sure we get going with our departure.”

  “You got it. Give him my best. If there's anything you need…”

  “I will. And I know.”

  0715 hours

  As Steve paced to the back of Sweetie, everything was a reminder of his lost love. A pair of Sarah’s jeans and T-shirts were drying up on a clothesline; her black and white drawings were tacked and taped to cupboards and walls; there was even a lingering smell of a vanilla scented candle she used to light.

  Steve rested Sarah’s body comfortably on the queen-sized bed. As delicately as possible, he removed her outer clothes, folded them and stacked them neatly in a pile.

  At first, Collin wasn't sure what Steve was doing, then it hit him. Steve was preparing for a funeral. Collin located a washcloth and soaked it with water.

  “Here, Steve, use this,” he said, handing his cousin the wet cloth.

  Collin didn't expect a "thank you"; he could see how bad Steve was hurting. He watched as Steve proceeded to clean the dirt and sand from Sarah's skin and the dried blood surrounding her fatal injury.

  Steve wanted to remember Sarah the way she used to be. Beautiful.

  Ten minutes later, Steve broke his silence.

  “After I finish cleaning her, I am going to get her dressed and gather wood for a fire.”

  Collin noticed that the rag was filthy. He found another cloth and handed it to Steve.

  “Fire for what?”

  “A funeral pyre.”

  “Nick and I were going to bury the others on the beach. You don't want to bury her?”

  “No,” Steve replied, pausing for a long moment. “I don't know why we talked about it, but Sarah said that when she died, she wanted to be cremated. She hated the idea of being trapped in a box for all eternity...something about being too claustrophobic.”

  “Claustrophobic,” Collin repeated. He laughed softly, which led directly into watery eyes.

  Steve's face was without emotion.

  “Sounds like something she would say.” Collin wiped his eyes before teardrops formed. He felt like it was an appropriate time, so he walked over and hugged Steve tight. “I love you, brother. She's in a better place.”

  Steve didn't return the hug, in fact, his arms dangled to the side.

  “I'll help you prep the pyre,” Collin said, releasing his embrace.

  For the next five minutes, Steve finished cleaning Sarah's body. After, he pulled her hair back around her ears, but left in her piercings. Knowing how much she hated makeup, Steve didn't even think about adding any to compliment her perfect features. In the closet next to the TV, he found a beautiful summer dress with a simple pattern of red flowers near the bottom.

  Collin waited idly by. He wanted to help, but he knew it wasn't his place. This process was something reserved for Steve and Steve alone. The only help Collin offered was in lifting Sarah's body so Steve could dress her. After, he stepped back and continued to wait patiently. If anything else, he wanted to be there for moral support. But there was something else.

  Collin believed that there would never be a right time to get answers, but he also knew how important it was to talk through the pain.

  “What happened last night?”

  Steve didn't take his eyes off Sarah's face. After a tense twenty-seconds without a response, he answered. “It doesn't matter.”

  “I know it's hard, Steve-O, but it does matter. It helps to talk about it…”

  “What do you want me to say? Jimmy killed her. She's dead. She's not coming back.”

  “I'm sure you did everything you could…” Collin said, putting a hand on Steve's shoulder.

  That was the last thing Steve wanted.

  Steve's damaged mind perceived Collin's consoling gesture as an attack. With lightning speed, Steve grabbed Collin's already injured hand, spun around and smashed Collin's body against the DVD rack. Steve pinned his cousin there using a modified rear wristlock.

  “How thefuck do you know? You weren't there!” Steve screamed, unintentionally applying more pressure to Collin's wrist. He got in close to Collin's ear and continued. “I didn't save her! Just like I didn’t save Dad! Just like I didn’t save Mike!”

  Collin tried to reply, but the pain in his wrist caused him to gasp at his own words.

  “Steve...it...it's..not....your-fault.”

  “Itwas my fault! I was supposed to protect her!”

  This time Collin fought through the pain and yelled back, “I know you're hurting, brother, but don't do this! Don't blame yourself! Don't walk down that path! Believe me, it doesn't lead anywhere good!”

  The words seemed to strike a nerve. Steve loosened up his grip, and then released Collin’s hand. He didn't apologize though. Instead, he calmly walked back over to Sarah's side.

  Collin lifted himself off the DVD rack. The scabs opened and blood oozed through the punctures, but Collin shook off the pain and fixed the bandage.

  Judging by Steve's demeano
r, Collin figured there was no way Steve would change his mind and talk about the incident. And the last thing he wanted to do, was push his cousin away more. So, he changed the subject.

  “We are leaving Camp. We are going to wait until Diane and the others get back, then we are going to head to the coordinates the President called out over the radio.”

  “Fine,” Steve said, leaning down on one knee. He lifted Sarah's left hand and removed the wedding ring, then placed her hand back in the exact position as if it never moved. He walked over to the dresser, picked up a plain silver necklace of Sarah's, slid the ring through and clasped it around his neck. The ring dangled over his heart.

  “Steve,” Collin started to say. “Steve, there's something else. There's something you need to know...”

  “It can wait,” Steve assumed. He didn't care about anything else. “I want to be alone with her. You should go now.”

  Collin walked to the door, and then turned around.

  “I'm here when you want to talk,” he said, sliding the door behind him.

  ***

  Nick, Travis, and West had taken the unknown man inside the Ranger station. The waiting room was a complete mess. Nothing had been cleaned, no glass or bullet casings swept away.

  West righted a chair and sat the man on it.

  “What's your name, buddy?” He asked, snapping his fingers to get the man back to a steady reality.

  The man replied, “H-Harry.” His voice was hoarse and mannerisms groggy. “Harry Jones.”

  West leaned in and inspected the wound on the back of Harry’s head.

  “Looks like you took a pretty good hit to your skull. You most certainly suffered a concussion. We can give you some meds and clean up the wound, but there's no way for us to know the full extent of the trauma. You need to stay off your feet and rest easy. Do you understand what I'm saying?”

  Harry blinked a couple times, and then licked his lips.

  “Ya- ya, I think so,” he answered. He gently massaged the muscles surrounding his throat. “Dry. Water?”

  Travis hustled over to the kitchen, and then brought back a bottle of water and a clean cloth.

  As Harry downed the water with three large gulps, West applied slight pressure against the wound. Unfortunately, the painful sensitivity seemed to wake Harry out of his daze.

  “OW!”

  The men never could have anticipated the sleeping dragon they had awoken. The full reality of the situation was not grasped until after a string of cursing and hateful words came spitting off Harry's tongue.

  “Get those banana hands away from me! What are you, a damn ape?” Harry spat, directing his words to West- the man who was attempting to treat him. “Actually, I take that back. I think even an ape knows how to take care of an injury.”

  “For your sake, that better not have been a reference to the color of my skin,” replied West.

  “Whatever helps you sleep at night, monkey hands.”

  West repeated the insult just to make sure he heard correctly.

  “Monkey hands?” He grabbed Harry's shirt and twisted the cotton material. “Concussion or not, I have no problem introducing your white, racist ass to a lesson on ethnic sensitivity!”

  “Whoa, hold up,” Travis interrupted, grabbing West by the shoulder. He was able to get West to release his grip and step back. “Just let it go, amigo.”

  “Says the wetback,” Harry spat. “If I recall, the only thing yourpeople were good for, was taking advantage of our healthcare system. Freeloading spics.”

  “Excuse you?” Travis said, letting go of West. Like West, Travis wasn't sure he heard correctly.

  “I'm sorry, you're right,” Harry replied, sounding sincere. He proceeded to articulate his words. “English probably isn’t your first language. And I forgot, you were good at mowing lawns, too.”

  “Pendejo, one more word and I will mess you up!” Travis declared, now getting held back by West.

  “Hey! What's going on here?” Nick asked, marching over.

  “This guy is a racist piece of shit, Nick!”

  Harry threw up his free hand. “Seriously? A Redskin, too? Is the circus in town? Where the hell am I? A damn ‘races of the world’ convention? All I need is a gook to complete the set.”

  Nick towered over Harry. He drove his index and middle fingers firmly into Harry’s chest. Then, he stared him straight in the eyes and said, “Look mister. In case you hadn't noticed thatman saved your life…”

  Harry tried to interrupt with another sly, racist comment, but was silenced immediately.

  “Did I look like I was finished?” Nick growled. “I don't know who you are or where you come from, or the woman who allowed you speak about people like that, but around here, it is not okay. So I'm going to tell you this one time, so listen and listen real good. Unless you want to find yourself on the other side of these gates, you better watch your tongue and show everyone here some respect. If I hear any words that could even be construed as racist, I will have your pudgy, white ass thrown out of here before you can say ‘honkey.’ Do you understand me?”

  Travis, West and Nick could tell that Harry was the type of guy who hated being put in his place. When Harry said the words “Ya, I understand” it sounded sincere, but when he added the word “Chief" at the end, they weren’t so sure.

  The last word, intentional or not, was enough for Nick.

  “You do not want to test me. Not today. Not ever.”

  The Ranger stretched his monstrous hand and pointed to the door. “Get out.”

  “Fine. Fine. Fine. I hear you loud and clear. Sorry,” Harry said, humbly.

  Travis and West could see Harry’s face tighten and contort from the displeasure of his apology.

  “It's just that my head hurts like hell. I'm hungry, and my blood sugar is really low. I'm hypoglycemic, you see. And when I don't eat for a while, I get grumpy.”

  West had no problem vocalizing his opinion.

  “I'd say grumpy is a grotesque understatement.”

  “Fuckin-A right,” Travis agreed, bumping knuckles with West.

  Harry ignored the comment. In an overly polite manner he said, “May I have some food, please. Sir.”

  “In a minute,” Nick answered, lifting up a nearby chair. He set it directly in front of Harry, sat down and asked, “I want to hear your story first. While it's still as fresh as that gash.”

  Unintentionally, Harry released a low growl. He was starving, but he realized that he would have to play by Nick's rules.

  “Fine. What do you wanna know?”

  Travis interrupted. “Let's start with who those secret-service look-alikes were and why you were knocked out cold.”

  “Apparently it has dawned on no one here as to who I am. Shocking. Anyway, long story short, I'm filthy rich. Harry Jones,” he said, smiling and pointing to his face. “Cover of Forbes, twice. I'm kinda good with money...”

  The others didn’t know or care about who hewas.

  “...After the outbreak, I traveled from house to house and rode out the storm. Those 'secret-service-look-alikes' as you put it, were my personal body guards. Funny, a few actually were retired Secret Service. Moving on, everything was all well and good up until the President came on and broadcast about the vaccine. After hearing it, they said they didn't need me anymore and they were going to take off. I tried to stop them, but one of them cracked me on the back of the head. Next thing I know, Juan over here…”

  Immediately, Travis stepped forward. He planned on keeping his promise to hurt Harry if he spoke another racist word.

  Harry scooted his chair back but bumped into West. With nowhere else to go, he squirmed like a coward.

  “Come on, that wasn't meant to be racist! How am I supposed to know peoples' names? I just got here!”

  Nick held a low hand to deter Travis from carrying on.

  “I'm Nick, this is Travis and that's West. Now you know. No more excuses.”

  “Fine. Got it.Now I know. Anyway,
next thing I know,Travis here picked me up and put me in the back of the Yukon.”

  Travis jumped into the questioning. “Why didn't you want them to go? The Government has a vaccine.”

  “The government has a vaccine, pshhh,” Harry joked, sounding completely amused by the thought. “You don't get to where I'm at by trusting in the government to look out for your interests.”

  “And where might that be? Abandoned, injured, hungry, thirsty, no place left to go?” Travis quipped. “Am I warm?”

  “Ha-ha, very funny. No. I mean you don’t know what I know…” Harry started to say, then stopped. He appeared to be holding something back. Then, when he found the words he wanted to use, he continued. “I mean, I'm a businessman. I know a good investment when I see one.”

  Nick was an excellent judge of character. Something about Harry's story seemed fishy. It seemed as though there was more to it; at least more that Harry wasn't willing to reveal.

  “That's it?” Nick asked. “That's everything?”

  “That's everything. I swear! Can I have some food now, please?”

  Nick looked up to West. The Sergeant Major seemed to have something going on in his head. A plan of sorts. So, Nick played along.

  “I don't think we need him, Nick,” West said simply. “Harry here said it himself. He's just a businessman. No weight in this world. I say we give him a little food and water and cut him loose.”

  “No! Wait!” Harry exclaimed, jumping up so fast he nearly fainted. “I CAN help!”

  Travis wasn't playing along. He was completely fine leaving Harry to his own devices. He followed Nick and West as they walked over toward the front doors.

  Harry cried, literally begging on his hands and knees.

  “Don't send me out there! Please! I have houses! I have food! Supplies! For God's sake, guns and ammo! It's yours if you just let me stay with you!”

  West smiled so only Nick and Travis could see. Then, the three men turned around.

  “Where might these supplies be located?” Nick asked.

  “I have houses and storage spaces all across the country! Multiple cities in almost every state!”

 

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