The Last Mile Trilogy

by Jacqueline Druga

  He was at it again. All it took was one bite of Spam and he was as hooked as he was five years earlier.

  Doc called him ‘whacked.’ He told Bishop he was much too young to remember a comedy show where they did Spam spoofs, but he could be the new poster boy for that in the new world.

  Bishop rose bright and early, making breakfast and coffee. He woke Robi before it was dawn, leaving a cup of coffee next to the bed.

  It wasn’t even six in the morning.

  “I hope you aren’t mad.” Bishop held out a chair for her in the kitchen. “I just haven’t seen you and I wanted to spend time with you.”

  “We’re traveling together, how do we not see each other?”

  “Come on, Robi, not ever since Jeb joined up. He kicked me out of our vehicle. I thought we were becoming friends, but he sort of swallowed the whole deal.”

  “Swallowed the whole deal? What do you mean?”

  “He’s the whole picture.” Bishop pushed the plate forward. “Now, that’s your business but …”

  “No,” Robi interrupted him. “You’re right. We have a country to cross, a life to start.” She laid her hand on his. “I liked the talks we had. I like this. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “Smells great.” Robi took a whiff. “What is it?”

  “A western omelet. Had to use the frozen veggies, but ...it works. Dig in.”

  Robi plunged her fork into the eggs. “Spam?”

  “Absolutely.”

  She smiled. “I peeked out this morning. The fire is still burning.”

  “Mas, says that a good thing. What ....what do you make of Mas?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “He’s odd,” Bishop said. “Doc says he’s an alien.”

  “You mean illegal. He is from Turkey and …”

  “No,” Bishop said. “Outer space. Martian like.”

  She nearly choked on her food. Wiping her mouth, she took a swig of coffee. “Mas is not an alien.”

  “But he knows all that technology?”

  She shrugged. “He probably was a professor in Turkey. He’s just brilliant, that’s all.”

  “You’re right. And the bug does look foreign.”

  “Tell me about it,” Robi said. “I just wished I could have seen the hospital when it was covered with them.”

  “Tate took a picture.”

  Robi peered up. “You’re kidding.”

  “Nope.” Bishop shook his head. “With the digital camera. He was showing them to us last night. Got the fireball pretty good, too.”

  “Sorry I missed that.”

  “You went to bed early. Weren’t you feeling well?”

  “Oh, no, that wasn’t it.” Robi shook her head. “Martha was out. And Jeb was on night watch. I wanted to get some sleep so at least he could sleep without worrying on the trip.”

  “Makes sense.”

  “Speaking of Jeb, have you seen him? Has he taken a break at all from his watch?”

  “Oh, yeah. Him and Tate chucked out of here about a half an hour ago. Grabbed some breakfast and were gone. Manny is on watch now.”

  Robi looked at her watch. “God, this house came alive early. Where did the Brothers Hoyt go so early?”

  Bishop shrugged. “Don’t know. They said they had something to do, really important, before we left.”

  “Jeb mentioned having to do something. In fact, he mentioned it a few times. But didn’t say what it was.”

  “Knowing the Brothers Hoyt, it’s probably is demented.”

  “Nah,” Robi shook her head. “And you know what? I’m not gonna worry about it. I want to enjoy my food.” She lifted a fork. “However, trust me. It’s probably nothing. I mean seriously, in light of everything, how demented could it really be? Not much.”

  <><><><>

  “That isn’t only the most demented thing I have ever heard, but the sickest!” Robi blasted. They were her last words to Jeb as she got in the Humvee, all packed and ready to go, and they took off. She never spoke another word during the first hundred miles … to him. The radio communications with Bishop were working just fine.

  Robi had to admit she thought it was a joke at first. Everyone knew about it. Acted nonchalant, so of course it had to be a joke.

  Then Tate showed her the pictures, and they confirmed that Jeb was not joking when he said, “We wanted to see if Elvis really died, so we dug up his grave.”

  No one else seemed to have a problem with it— no one but Robi.

  Jeb grew irritated. Every mile they drove without her speaking to him, angered him more. She was mad … obviously. About what, he knew, but the ‘why’ of it all was what he wanted to know. Robi never got to that, and the rate they were going, she wasn’t doing it any time soon.

  Jeb huffed out loudly, and again he was ignored. He turned to the back seat to Nick. “How long does she bear a grudge?”

  “Days,” Nick answered. “Forget about it, Jeb. Just let her go.”

  “I can’t. Days?” He shook his head and faced forward. After a moment, he turned sideways to watch Robi, thinking that staring her down would do it.

  She ignored him, only glancing to the back to Nick and Martha as she drove.

  “No,” Robi chuckled, speaking into the radio device Mas designed for her to wear, leaving her hands free for driving. “That had to be the seventies, not the sixties, and it was a disaster film, but not end of the world.” She chuckled. “Bishop, I’m sure. It was a boat that turned over. I’m sure …” She paused, laughed. “Oh, for sure. Oh! I forgot about that one. I’m not a crier but that one got me choked up.”

  “Hundred fuckin’ miles,” Jeb mumbled.

  “Well, sure. But when you’re talking large scale each individual’s going to treat it differently,” Robi said. “No, Bishop, I called that one already.”

  “Enough.” Jeb leaned over, placing his face real close to Robi’s.

  “And I … hold on, Jeb’s breathing on me.” Cocking back some, Robi looked at Jeb. “What?”

  “A hundred miles.”

  “OK.”

  “You haven’t spoken to me.”

  “I’m talking to Bishop.”

  “Not anymore.” He leaned his mouth close to her and blasted out, “Bishop! End this call now. I have to talk to her.” He removed the radio from Robi.

  The Humvee swerved.

  “Asshole!”

  “No.” He tossed it in the back. “Now, talk to me, not Bishop.”

  “If you have a problem feeling neglected, switch vehicles.”

  “That has nothing to do with it, and you know it,” Jeb said.

  Nick groaned form the back. “Guys, if you two are gonna fight, can I go in another vehicle?”

  Both Robi and Jeb replied at the same time, the same way. “No!”

  “Fine.” Nick lifted the headset and upped his volume.

  Robi growled.

  Jeb shook his head. “I can’t believe you’re behaving this way in front of our baby.”

  “Oh knock it off.”

  “You...!”

  “I told you to knock it off first!” Robi screamed.

  “Why are you so fuckin’ pissed?”

  “Like you don’t know.”

  “I don’t.”

  “Please.” Robi scoffed.

  “OK.” Jeb calmed down. “Pretend I don’t have an inkling. Tell me why you’re mad.”

  “I’m not mad, I’m pissed. You are sick, Jeb. Sick. Sick. Sick.”

  “Ok.” Jeb nodded. “Why am I sick?”

  Robi gasped. “You dug up Elvis’ grave. Can we say desecration? No probably not, too big of a word.”

  “Hey! You’re gonna tell me that you never wondered if Elvis really died.”

  “No.”

  “Bull.”

  “And even if I did, that wouldn’t give me the right to dig up the person’s grave.”

  “Who cares?” Jeb tossed out his hands. “Do you know how hard it was to open that fuckin
’ concrete vault?”

  “Poor baby.”

  “And he wasn’t even there!” Jeb yelled. “Sand bags. Four sand bags.”

  “You think that maybe they buried him somewhere else, just on the outside chance an asshole like you would dig up his grave?”

  “No. And for your information, Miss Smarty pants, I didn’t desecrate his grave. You can’t desecrate a grave where no one is buried. So there. Ha!”

  Robi stared forward.

  “Now you’re pissed because you lost the argument.”

  “No, I’m pissed because I have to drive with you in the car.”

  “Deal with it.” Jeb sulked. “Our baby is in the car.”

  Robi didn’t say anything.

  “Fighting with me in front of Nick. Good thing he has his headphones on. Listening to his music, blocking us out.”

  “Will you shut up?” Robi blasted. “Just ...shut up.”

  “What? You haven’t talked to me yet.”

  “Because I don’t want to fight with you,” Robi said. “Now, shut … up, don’t make me take drastic measures.”

  “Oh.” Jeb snickered. “You think you’re frightening me? Robi, please, drastic measures? What are you gonna do?”

  “Knock you out.”

  Jeb laughed loudly. “Knock me out? Knock me out?”

  “Knock you out,” Robi said. “Drastic situations call for drastic measures.”

  “OK, I’m game,” Jeb said with a smirk. “How are you gonna knock me out?”

  “You don’t think I can?”

  “No, I don’t,” Jeb said. “And if you do, all power to you. Kudos. So, go on, knock me out.”

  Robi peered in the mirror. “Nick?”

  Before Jeb even realized what had happened, Nick reached forward with an already prepared syringe, and plunged it into the back of his neck.

  “Fuck.” Jeb’s hand shot up to where he felt the pinch. He pulled out the syringe and looked at it. “Fuck.”

  Robi smiled. “Night.”

  <><><><>

  Weatherford, OK

  Nine times the opening line to the song Oklahoma was sung in H-2. Nine times since they crossed the state line. But since no one really knew the rest of the song, the opening line was all that was sung.

  “Weatherford, OK,” Greek said, as they pulled into the town. “Population, nine thousand forty-six, last census, Bishop Survival count …” he scanned down the pad, “this can’t be right, two hundred thirty?”

  “That’s what the guy reported,” Bishop replied.

  “Sounds high, awfully high.”

  Manny said as he drove, “But if it’s accurate, we should be asking the question…”

  Tate finished, “Where would two hundred and thirty people be?”

  Manny peered closer to the windshield. “Town looks empty. Maybe they moved on.”

  “Could have,” Tate said. “So-Cal?”

  Greek leaned forward. “Where is she going?”

  “Probably looking for a camp spot,” Manny said. “Place for us all to stay and park it. OK, she’s stopping. She looks for the big houses.”

  Tate snickered. “Elvis’ mansion must have spoiled her.”

  Manny pulled the vehicle right up behind Robi’s.

  The house was large and located just one half block off the main drag. Robi stepped from the Humvee, stretched, then reached inside and pulled out her rifle. “Stay close,” she said to Nick. “In fact, stay with Martha until we check out the house.”

  Bishop, Tate, and Manny walked toward Robi. Mas, Greek and Doc stayed by the Humvee.

  “What’s going on?” Manny asked. “You checking out the house?”

  “Yeah.” Robi nodded. “Tate, you wanna come with me?”

  Tate nodded.

  “After we check out the house,” Robi said, “we settle in for the night, and then head out tomorrow looking for supplies and any survivors. I’d like to stay in packs. One pack stays here, one goes out, in case we run into those bugs. Everyone stay here until Tate and I check out the house.”

  “Where’s my brother?” Tate asked.

  Robi pointed to the Humvee with her rifle.

  Tate peeked inside. “Man, he is out like a light.”

  “Yep, sure is,” Robi said. “He wouldn’t sleep, wouldn’t shut up, so I knocked him out.”

  “That can’t be good for us.”

  “Well, neither is your brother if he isn’t rested.” Robi walked toward the house. “I’ll wake him in an hour. You coming?”

  Tate looked at his brother once more, shook his head, and followed Robi.

  <><><><>

  The house was clean, no one inside, and no sign of the bugs that she worried so much about. She was about to wave at everyone to come in, when she noticed it. Or rather him. Mas. He stood by the Humvee, arms tight to his body, looking scared. Manny was at the edge of the walk. “All clear?”

  “Yeah,” Robi answered. “No signs of survivors or bodies. Someone cleaned out this town; I think it’s possible our survivors moved on. What’s wrong with Mas?”

  “Get this. He’s afraid. He says something about the night, and then starts talking Turkish.”

  “Did you ask if he was worried about the bugs?”

  “Yep. He shook his head.”

  “I’ll take a crack,” Robi said and walked over to Mas. “Hey, Mas, what’s up? Why are you scared?”

  “Fine is day. Bad is night. Go we must. On we move,” Mas said.

  “Do you think we’re in danger?” Robi asked. “Now?”

  “Night.”

  “At night.” Robi nodded. “Is it the bugs?”

  “No.”

  “Another creature? The enemy?”

  “No.” Mas shook his head. “Gi fi tatta fola geena.”

  “I see.” Robi turned her head, looked back at Manny, and rolled her eyes. “OK.” She returned to Mas. “I’ll make you a deal. We’ll hang out here. And once it gets dark, if there is any sign of trouble, we’re out of here. Gone.”

  Mas nodded. “Fast?”

  “Very fast.”

  “Promise?”

  “You have my word.” Robi held up her right hand.

  “Leave shall we fast. Ready I shall be.” Mas nodded fast. “Thanks of many, Robi. Worried am I.”

  “I see that.” She laid her hand on his shoulder. “But we’re fine right now?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good.” Robi turned, walking to the first vehicle. “Whose gonna give me a hand?” she asked, and then opened the passenger side door. “Anyone?” She glanced in at Jeb, sound asleep, oblivious to everything.

  Tate approached. “A hand with what? Him?”

  “Yep.” Robi nudged him with her rifle. “I want to get him inside and on the couch.”

  Bishop checked out the distance between the Humvee and the house. “You’re kidding, right?”

  “Nope. He needs to go in,” Robi said.

  Manny asked, “Why can’t we leave him here?”

  “For starters, it’s a hundred degrees. It’s too hot to be left in a car. He’ll die. Again, I’ll ask, who’s gonna give me a hand?”

  Tate laughed. “As in which one of us will help you out?” He fluttered his lips. “I’d have to say you should ask how many of us are gonna help you lug his big ass in that house. It won’t be an easy task.”

  “You don’t think?” Robi asked.

  “Trust me,” Tate said. “You’re looking at two hundred and fifty pounds of dead weight. It’s gonna be a task.”

  Tate was right. However ‘lugging’ wasn’t as big of a task as getting him out of the Humvee. There was only room for two of them to get a grip on him and try to lift him from the seat. Jeb proved too heavy for them, and though they tried, they could not keep him balanced between them. He tumbled from the car and landed on the pavement, his head saved only by Manny’s quick reaction.

  It took six of them—Tate, Robi, Manny, Bishop, Nick, and Greek— to tote Jeb into the house. All of them ha
ving a piece of the sleeping Jeb, his body going whichever way they led him, no response at all to the bumps and jolts.

  They managed though and after only dropping him twice, they got Jeb in the house and on the couch.

  <><><><>

  The hospital was empty, the clinic, too. There were no signs of survivors at the radio station, or at the local school. Manny, Tate, Bishop and Nick walked the streets of Weatherford calling out for anyone. But no one replied. They continued to search as they circled on back to base.

  They found nothing. People wise, at least. Bishop, however, made a find.

  “Spam,” Tate grunted out the word. “You don’t need any more Spam.”

  “I beg to differ,” Bishop spoke as he walked. “You can never have too much Spam. Look. It’s already barbequed. Do you know how rare this is? They haven’t made that in ages.”

  Tate looked at the can. “The can looks ages old.”

  Manny added, “Probably get sick from it.”

  “No, it’s fresh. Doesn’t expire for a while. Look at the date.” he showed Manny the can.

  “Wow,” he said sarcastically. “It’s about as bust as your survival list of two hundred.”

  “Hey,” Bishop defended. “That was the number I was given. And are we headed in the right direction?”

  “We’re right ahead,” Tate replied.

  Bishop shook his head. “We turned down the wrong street. Ours is next.”

  Nick stopped walking, “Dudes.”

  The other three halted.

  “Look.” Nick pointed.

  Up ahead, slumped in the grass, it appeared to be a man.

  “Hey!” Tate called out, “Hello!” He started to jog toward the man. Manny, Bishop and Nick kept up behind him.

  It was a man. He was slumped on what looked like a little Blessed Mother statue. His clothes were dusty, and looked as if they’d been worn for months and smelled like it, too.

  Tate reached down. “He’s warm.” At the touch of Tate’s hand, his eyes open.

  “Hey.” Tate smiled. “How are you?”

  The man didn’t respond. His mouth opened and no words came out. His face was pale, lips dry.

  “Are you OK?” Tate asked.

  Manny added, “Are you hurt?”