by Rod Little
“Dexter's day will come,” Walter promised. “But not today. We'll deal with him later.”
“Do you even know what's happening here?” Shane asked. “Any idea why all this crap has fallen on the world?”
Walter drew a breath and smiled the way you smile when you tell a child he can't have another cookie before dinner.
“No. I'm sorry. I don't have any answers for you. I do, however, have a message for Dexter – if you should decide to go back to him.” Walter took a moment, then said: “Tell him the DNA strings are not the same. There are at least two different species of creatures, so his idea won't work. Also, I want to meet him, just the two of us. He'll have sanctuary to come speak to me. Here. He has my word.”
“I'm not your messenger,” Shane spat. He was in no mood to be helpful.
“As you wish, son. You have nothing but choices left in this life. Your past choices led you here. Make sure all your future choices in life you take you to where you truly want to go.”
There was a pause, as the boys tried to think of more words to plead their case.
“It's getting late,” Jake said. “You should get going before dark. It's not safe after dark.”
“Go where?” Shane asked, incredulous of the emotionless demeanor these people displayed.
“As I said, that is up to you.” Walter turned to his wife. “Can we give them something for the road?”
“I have some sandwiches in the fridge,” she said kindly. “And we can spare a couple bottles of water.”
“Fridge? You have electricity?” Shane just then realized he could hear the sound of it running.
“We are highly resourceful,” Walter explained. “For years, we've been prepared to go off the grid. Since our work is sensitive, we can't risk an outage.”
“Work? You have a lab here?”
“We have,” Walter said simply.
His wife put the water bottles and sandwiches in a plastic bag, and handed it to Jason.
“I hope you understand,” she said. “Good luck to you both.” She squeezed Jason's arm, and patted Shane on the back, then left the room. The others at the table remained silent and pretended to read the charts in front of them.
Walter opened the door for them, and extended his hand. Shane shook it hesitantly and walked through the doorway.
“Gentlemen. It was good to meet you,” said Walter. “And I wish you luck in this brave new world.”
Like zombies, disbelieving of how quickly they had been turned away, the two boys walked back out onto the porch, followed by Jake.
“Here, you might be able to use these,” Jake said in a gravelly voice. He reached into one of his deep pockets and produced a handful of cherry bombs, then added a pack of matches. He shoved them into Shane's hand.
“Be careful,” he said. “It's a jungle out there. More than ever.” He puffed his pipe and repeated: “More than ever.”
The two boys ambled down the road. Shane tucked the cherry bombs into his pocket, and turned back once to look at the quiet house. Jake rocked in his chair again.
The sun started to fade, and the world ahead did not invite them in. Friends and allies seemed few and far between, while enemies waited just about everywhere. They hoped none of Dexter's men were watching the house. They guessed not, as Dexter seemed to want to keep his distance from Walter's team.
“Remember before when I said we were screwed?” Shane said, his voice shaking with frustration.
“Yeah.”
“Well, I'm getting tired of that. Tired of being slapped around.”
“Yeah. I hear that.”
Chapter 10
Ken paced back and forth in the watchtower, waiting and watching for signs of movement on the road. Tina brought him a water, and noticed how fast the sun was setting these days.
“Anything yet?” she asked.
“I thought they'd be back hours ago. I haven't seen or heard anything out there.”
“Night's coming, maybe they'll shoot off a signal flare.”
“They have those?”
“I saw some in the jeep,” she said and smiled. “Don't worry. They're experienced hunters.”
He looked through the binoculars again, for the millionth time: nothing.
“Are you more scared for them or us?” she asked.
“Both.” he replied honestly. He hadn't expected her to pick up on that. “I don't think we can survive without them. We barely made it this far. We're not... you know.”
“We're not like them. It doesn't mean we're not survivors.” She hugged him and kissed his cheek.
“So if they shoot off a flare, what does that mean?” he asked. “Seriously. We go rescue them? Do we know how to do that?”
“I'm not sure. Do we have another car?”
“Not one that runs. But that town isn't too far. There are bicycles in the club house. We could try to bike it.”
“Let's wait and see the flare first. I... I was just guessing.”
A brief flicker of movement on the open road caught Ken's eye. He peered through the growing shadows, and again thought he saw something stir. A small animal, maybe. It was the first sign of life he had seen all day. In the failing light, he couldn't be sure if it was real or a trick of the eye.
“What is that? Is that something?” He got his rifle ready and aimed through the scope.
Tina took the binoculars. A creepy silhouette approached them, small, with a furry arm... or a fuzzy object in its arms. Skirting the shadows, it shuffled up the road and headed for the lodge gates.
“Ken. It's a child. Don't shoot, it's a small child on the road.”
The figure plodded forward on tiny legs. It followed the dirt road, but seemed aimless or drunk in its approach. It wobbled as it tried to walk, right up to the front gate. Ken exchanged the rifle for a pistol, and they ran down to meet it. He didn't trust anyone or anything anymore.
They opened the gate just enough for the child to walk through. It was a little girl of about six or seven years of age. Her long stringy hair was unwashed, her face smeared with dirt. She stumbled into their safe fortress and collapsed on the ground.
Tina rushed to her, and lifted her head. “She's dehydrated, get me a bottle of water.”
Ken pulled one from his jacket, and handed it to her. Tina dribbled some water on the child's mouth and forehead while Ken struggled to close the gate by himself. It thudded shut, and he triggered the lock. Then he knelt next to Tina and the little girl.
The child's eyes opened. She drank more water and coughed. Her left hand gripped a stuffed animal, a green fur-lined frog, as if it meant everything to her. Her yellow dress was dirty and torn, and she wore sandals on her small delicate feet, both of which were scratched and bruised. This child had clearly seen a little piece of hell and managed to get out of it alive.
“Marky,” she said. Her creaky voice was almost too weak to be heard.
Ken picked her up and carried her into the hotel lobby. He laid her down on the couch, and Tina cleaned her face with a wet rag.
“What's your name, sweetie? Where are you from?”
“Marky,” she squeaked again. She closed her eyes, exhausted.
“Is she trying to say Marky or Mommy?” Tina asked.
“I don't know. Let her sleep a bit,” suggested Ken. “I'm going back to the tower to see if anyone else is coming. You stay here with her.”
The cat showed up and nuzzled the child. Ken had forgotten the cat was even in the hotel. Now it curled up next to their new small guest and purred. Then the girl and cat fell asleep together as Tina looked on.
Ken watched the road for more unexpected guests.
An hour later, the girl woke up. She reached for the bottle of water and drank it. Tina was slicing up apples and heard the child cough. She brought her a plate of the sliced fruit.
“You hungry, sweetie?”
The girl timidly took a small apple slice without answering. She bit into it and stared at Tina. Her other hand reached ou
t and took the frog back in her embrace. She squeezed it close to her body. The cat woke up and took off, suddenly remembering it needed to be somewhere else.
“What's your name, honey?”
“Lily,” the girl said meekly.
“Where are you from? Where is your mommy or daddy?”
The child pointed outside.
“Last night you said Marky.”
The girl jumped up, excited. “My brother? Is he here?”
“No, sweetie, I just heard you say his name. Marky is your brother?”
The girl nodded her head up and down emphatically.
“Where are they?”
“Outside,” she pointed to the door. “But... the bad men, they took mommy. And then Marky said to walk away. He made me go.” She lowered her voice to a whisper: “He's gonna save her.”
“How old is your brother?”
“Eleven and a half.” She held up ten fingers, then closed her small palms and flashed one. “Older than me. My mom sings, you know.”
“Can you wait here, Lily? I'm going to get my boyfriend.”
Lily nodded without conviction.
The cat returned, and Tina put it in Lily's lap. “Just pet the cat, honey, until I get back.”
“What's his name?” the child asked.
“My boyfriend?”
“The kitty. What's his name?”
“Oh,” Tina scrambled for a name. “Snowball. You keep Snowball company, and I'll be right back. I promise.”
Lily petted the cat, and ate the rest of the apple slice. She hardly seemed real. Her long curly hair was tangled and dirty, but more striking was her expression of dull apathy. She seemed more like a long-forgotten doll one might find at a garage sale. The child had seen too much horror for such a young age.
Tina ran up to the tower, and found Ken using the rifle scope to scan the outside. It was fully dark now.
“How's the girl,” he asked.
“She told me her mom was taken by 'bad men' out there. And, her eleven-year-old brother is trying to rescue her.”
“Really? Tough kid, if that's true.”
“Ken. We should help her.”
“We are helping her. She's safe in here.”
“I mean we should go out and help get her mother and brother.”
“Babe, we can't even find our own people. What can we do? If the guys come back, I promise we'll go out and find her mother. But we need Shane and the others first. Our group needs to be whole again.”
Ken still felt insecure with just the two of them. He didn't want to be a leader, ever. He wanted Shane here to make the decisions, and Sam and Jason as back-up. Tina was stronger in this, and that embarrassed him a little. He steeled himself to be brave, and kept the scope trained on the road below.
“We need to stay put for now.” He turned away from the scope and kissed her lightly on the cheek. “Someone has to be here in case the guys come back, honey. And what if this kid's mom and brother come here? She found us. They might, too.”
“I understand,” Tina conceded. “Who do you suppose the 'bad men' are?”
“Well, bad men do exist,” he reminded her. “You have to imagine what kind of people survive this kind of thing. The strongest, the scariest, and the worst in humanity. Those kind take to an apocalypse like flies to honey. I can only guess what's out there, worse than the creatures.”
“Worse?”
“We see the creatures coming, babe. But, bad men… they can hide so easy.”
The child had climbed the stairs on her own, and now surprised them in the watchtower. She still had her fuzzy frog, and the cat followed her.
“Hey sugar,” Ken smiled.
She waved at him with one hand. “I was scared down there. Don't leave me alone.”
“Sorry, Lily. I won't leave you again. Hey, this is Ken. He's nice, isn't he?”
Lily stared at him, but didn't reply.
“Lily,” he said. “Wow! What a pretty name. It's a flower, you know.”
She nodded. She knew.
Ken knelt down next to her, and asked, “Lily, how many 'bed men' are there? The ones who took your mommy?”
The child shrugged.
“Can you guess? Two. Or a hundred? Many, a lot, or just one or two?”
“A lot,” she said, certain. “Maybe a hundred.”
Ken looked at Tina, the fear on his face mirrored hers. This situation might be worse than expected. A hundred men could come here and get in. An army could break the gate and take over their little safe haven.
“So how is your brother going to rescue your mom?”
She shrugged again. “I don't know.”
“We should stay together,” Tina said. “I'll get the apples and water. Let's all stay up here in the tower. Lily can sleep on the floor.”
“My mom's a singing star,” the child announced. “She's a singer. Everyone loves her. She sings pretty.”
“That's great, honey.” Ken said, but he wasn't listening. His attention was drawn to movement near the gate. A shadow darted from the grass to the wall.
“Hey, what is that?” Tina whispered. “What the hell is that? Is someone climbing up the wall?”
Chapter 11
Sam watched the sun fall. As darkness enveloped the compound, more fires were lit inside stone pits of varied sizes. Dexter's men and women roasted meat, changed guard shifts, carried sacks of supplies, and still performed their chores. There was a flourishing nightlife in this place.
His hands were still tied. He looked around the cage, examined the lock.
“I don't suppose you ladies know how to pick a lock?”
“Maybe,” Camila said, “If I had a pin. But I don't.”
Then he noticed the roof was just a piece of plywood laid over the top of the cage.
“Hey is that bolted down? Can one of you try to lift it a little?”
Camila jumped up and hit the plywood with her hand. It raised an inch and fell back.
“Even if you do push it off,” Camila said, “you've got to climb up and out. Then you're just in the middle of this . . . hell. These guys just want an excuse to stab you or bludgeon you. They take days to kill their captives. They enjoy it.”
Lucy finally spoke. “Dexter can't protect you if you escape.”
“Dexter!” Sam snorted. “Just a psychopath. You want to trust your fate to him? That's a bad mistake. I'm getting out of here.”
“Take us,” Camila urged. “Please, we can help you.”
Sam furrowed his brow. “I never planned to leave you. Can you climb over that?”
“I can,” Camila said. “I'm not so sure about the princess here.”
“I'm sorry,” Lucy pleaded. “I've never done anything like this before. And I haven't had a drink in a week. I mean, I don't need one, I'm just scared. I can't function... like this.”
Oh good, Sam thought. An alcoholic soccer mom who's never broken a fingernail. My odds of survival keep improving like a swimmer with cement shoes.
“Well just imagine there's a case of whiskey on the other side,” Sam said. “An alcoholic housewife's dream.”
“I'm not a housewife,” Lucy said. “Or an alcoholic! I'm a singer in the Honeybees. The band.”
“Oh wow! Really? Fill My Glass Full of Love, I remember that song. Hey! You are her. Nice pipes. Nice hit.”
“It's just called Glass Full of Love,” she said derisively.
Whatever. I really hated that song, he thought. But now might not be the best time to mention it.
“Well, I met someone famous before I died. How about that!”
“This is a charming fan club meeting,” Camila interrupted. “But can we get back to an escape plan? Please.”
“My kids are out there,” Lucy told them. “My son and daughter. She's only eight. I made them run and hide.”
“Smart,” Camila said. “These assholes here are not good with kids.”
“They can't be alone out there,” Lucy whined. “Lily will get scared. A
nd Mark will try to do something stupid. He will try to save me. I know him. Gawd! I need a... I need an aspirin!”
“Easy there,” Sam said. “If you told them to run and hide, they're probably safe. And my brother will be back soon. We'll get out of here. Trust me.”
A stumpy man passed the cage and slammed a baseball bat against the bars. “Shut up in there, you be-atches!” He walked on.
Another creepy man stopped for a moment and looked them over. The man reeked of both bourbon and dirt. His stringy hair hadn't been washed in weeks.
“After chores, I'm gonna enjoy you, a long slow time,” he said to Lucy. “Maybe even pretty boy here.” He laughed and flicked his cigarette at Sam, then walked on. The still-burning cigarette butt bounced off Sam's chest and landed on the floor. Sam stamped it out.
“Charming,” he said. “I really love these guys.”
It was a clear night. The moon was nearly full and gave them some much-needed light. The late-night breeze turned chilly, and the women shivered in their underwear and torn shirts.
Mitch joined them at the cage. For the first time, Sam noticed the man was missing a finger.
“Don't worry, pumpkin,” Mitch leaned against the cage. “I'll keep you warm tonight. I think I want you.” He pointed to Lucy.
Other men had ravaged Camila with kisses the night before - thank God that Dexter didn't allow more. She shuddered at the thought, and spat at him. But the men were more talk than bite. Dexter would never allow them to do more than lightly touch or kiss the girls. It was a carrot he dangled cleverly to keep the men happy.
“Easy my little burrito,” he told her. “Don't be jealous. I'll get back to you another time. We've got nothing but time these days.”
“I'm gonna shove my knife up your culo, perro sucio,” she cursed in Spanish. She wasn't afraid. Anger had long ago replaced fear as the dominant force in her life.
“Oh yeah, baby,” he said and walked on. In the distance they heard him snicker. “Oh yeah, baby.” Then he started humming the tune to Glass Full of Love by the Honeybees. He crossed the compound and walked out of sight.