by AJ Rose
We have to get away from this place, Elliot found himself nearly pleading with… whomever. Ash had decided to give Elliot two full days of rest before moving along, and it’d helped. He hadn’t had an absence seizure in twenty-four hours, and the dog at his feet was calm and panting lazily even in the early morning sunshine that promised a hot one.
“If we get an early start this morning, I think we can make it forty or more miles today,” Ash continued as if Tim hadn’t yet again voiced the idea of avenging his friend. “If we can keep that pace, we should be out of Nebraska in a little over a week. My sources tell me—”
Tim snorted. Ash ignored him.
“—the line between power and blackout happens in the mountains, and he’s not exactly sure where, but once we get over the range, we should be good to go. We can get money.” He nodded to Elliot, who smiled to acknowledge his promise to fund the rest of their trip to Seattle once he had access to his bank accounts. “Supplies. Perhaps a vehicle if rationing isn’t too heavy.”
“Have you considered hiring a plane?” Elliot asked. “It’s probably the one kind of fuel not in short supply, given that we haven’t seen or heard a plane in the air since New York, and I will happily pay for all of us to get off the damn road.”
Ash looked to the others. “That sounds so good to me, I can’t even really let myself hope for it, but if you all are game, I say yes.” Around the table, everyone but Tim gave enthusiastic nods.
“A plane? Like flying?” Riley asked, hopeful. “I’ve never been on a plane.”
“No, baby, you haven’t,” Charlotte said, kissing the top of his head. “Let’s see if we can change that soon.”
There was no mistaking the tendril of excitement that wound through the group that just maybe they’d reach the end of this nightmare and taste safety. No more camping, no more gunshots, no more fear of psycho landowners or stumbling over military who could split them up. When they first started out, Elliot had wanted to know the state of the rest of the country, and in the periodic calls he’d made to his father, he’d asked for what news Steven could give him. It wasn’t much, but there were controlled military reports given in carefully parsed press releases, speaking of progress in getting the affected region into refugee camps, the wounded and sick being tended to, and of the major metropolitan areas slowly being brought under control.
Except Atlanta.
That city, overrun by gang violence, turned terroristic and aimed at the disaster responders instead of each other, had become a fully occupied military operation intent on getting the law-abiding citizens out and containing those that remained in a prison of their own making. The stupid fucks, Steven had reported, had burned everything to the ground. What they hadn’t burned had been turned into a compound of sorts, and Steven predicted it was only a matter of time before the military flexed its might and went in with heavier artillery.
After that, Elliot had stopped asking about the state of the rest of the country. His focus narrowed to nine—now eight—people.
“I don’t want your fucking plane ride,” Tim snarled unexpectedly, lunging at Elliot from across the fire ring. His fist was in Elliot’s t-shirt before anyone could react, hauling him forward, above the coals that still smoldered from their morning breakfast. “You fucking asshole, think you can just erase him by making us fall at your feet with your money and connections. We’re leaving because of you and your fucked up brain, and if it weren’t for you being so weak, we’d be able to go back and take care of business.”
“Elliot’s not the reason we’re leaving,” Aaron said, his arm across Tim’s chest, trying to pull him off. Behind Elliot, Brian held him around the waist, but the effort lifted him more off his feet, taking away his leverage. Ghost growled menacingly, though his focus split between Brian and Tim, unsure which one was the aggressor.
The pressure dragged Elliot closer to the burning embers, and he held on to Tim’s forearms with a death grip, trying to get leverage to pull back. His toes displaced a couple of the lake rocks they’d used to border the fire, but he couldn’t dig his heels in.
“I don’t want to forget him,” he said, scrambling for the words that would make Tim calm down.
“Why not?” Tim sneered. “He hated your guts, and we would have killed your faggot ass and left you to rot if your boyfriend’s sister hadn’t threatened us.”
“What are you talking about?” Ash demanded.
Tim turned hateful eyes on Ash without letting Elliot go. “I can’t count how many times she said you’d all leave Jason and me behind if we touched a hair on his lily ass.” He shook Elliot, who dug his fingers into Tim’s forearms.
The unmistakable sound of a cocking rifle got everyone’s attention. Charlotte stood to the left of Elliot, near the tents, her face a mask of calm. “Let him go.”
“Or what?” Tim challenged. “You’ll shoot me?”
“Let him go, and we won’t have to find out.”
Slowly, Tim’s clenched hands loosened, and Elliot fell back into Brian’s arms. Aaron pulled Tim away from camp, past a crying Jennifer and a stoic Charlotte. Aaron was already murmuring in Tim’s ear as he led him away, and they watched the two disappear in the direction of the lake.
“He’s out of his mind,” Ash said almost wondrously.
“You would be too if someone you love had begged you to kill them,” Jennifer said. “What if it had been Charlotte in the bear trap? Or even you, Ash? Would you have wanted to live?”
“It wasn’t anyone but Jason,” Brian said, stepping between Jennifer and Ash as though the confrontation would continue through the two of them. “And infighting isn’t going to help. Jennifer, go make sure you’re all packed up and start breaking down your tent. Charlotte, you, too. Riley, help your mother.”
Charlotte handed Ash the rifle and did as she was told without a backward glance, Riley falling into step behind her. Brian, Elliot, and Ash stared at each other.
“We have to get moving,” Ash said. He was breathing heavily and sweat dampened his long curls. Elliot wanted to go to him, wrap in the protectiveness of his arms and forget what had just happened, but he held back. Since the morning at the lake, Ash had been subdued, and while that was true of them all after Jason’s death, Elliot wasn’t so sure Ash’s was a direct result of yet more death in their midst. Well, not entirely.
Stalking to their tent, Elliot began to pull from the ground the pegs anchoring it. Ash shuffled in the direction Aaron and Tim had disappeared, and Brian came to his side to help him. They’d already packed up the interior, so it was quick work to break down the rest.
When the three men returned from the lake, Aaron was soaked from the waist down, Tim entirely so, and Ash looked less angry. Tim approached Elliot, contrition written all over his face.
“I’m sorry,” he muttered, glancing at Aaron as if the apology had been coerced and he was proving he’d be good. “This isn’t your fault, and I lost my temper. It won’t happen again.”
“It’s okay,” was all Elliot could muster. “It hurts, losing a close friend. We all understand.”
“Yeah, well,” Tim said, looking into the distance and sniffing. “Like I said, it won’t happen again.” He stalked off and began disassembling his tent in jerky movements.
Half an hour later, they were all packed up. No one seemed to want to be the one to say it was time, knowing when they left, it made Jason’s death a finality not even the mounded grave had been. By unspoken agreement, they filed through the clearing to the trees in the direction of Jason’s final resting place, ringing the loose dirt as they had two days before. They each took a moment and slowly peeled off, leaving Tim standing there last, Aaron a few feet away.
“I promise, buddy,” Tim said almost under his breath. “I’ll be back for you.”
Elliot didn’t know exactly what that meant, but it sent an uneasy shiver up his spine, nevertheless.
The next few days passed uneventfully, if one could call mounting tempers, the sun be
ating down on them relentlessly, and everyone bitching at everyone else uneventful. They passed town after town, though, staying to the roads this time and skirting wide of any lands marked with no trespassing signs. They were all miserable, and while Tim had more reason than most to be so, he took his pain out on everyone, including Jennifer and Aaron, who did everything they could to keep him from losing it again.
Ash had pressed one of the Colts into Elliot’s hand and murmured to him never to go anywhere without it, even to relieve himself, and to do his best not to let the others know he carried it. He said to let them assume it had gone missing. Not one to argue when it appeared he was the one who most stoked Tim’s ire, Elliot complied, and the weight of the Colt at the small of his back was reassuring in a way it had never been before.
Regular updates from Uncle Marvin told them the government was no closer to uncovering the identity of the terrorists than before, but the UN was sending a steady stream of supplies into the country to help displaced persons. FEMA, in conjunction with the Army National Guard, was deployed everywhere, and Marvin’s recommendation was to avoid populated areas as best they could.
“They’re not letting people over the border easily,” he’d said. “My suggestion is to try to cross around Laramie, Wyoming. There’s one interstate, which I believe is heavily guarded, but if you stay south of that, there’s not a lot out there. It’s at the northern edge of a national forest, and there are trees and mountains for decent cover, but you won’t have a lot of people to avoid. Should be able to gear up in Laramie and go from there.”
“Can you look into where it would be best to charter a plane for eight people? Once we get into power, Elliot can get enough cash, but we’ll have to get away from the border fairly quickly, if we can. Otherwise it’ll look obvious we’re from the east, with our gear and our, uh, personal hygiene. I don’t want to get stopped if we can avoid it. They’ll probably ship us to a refugee camp instead of letting us come to you.”
“I’ll find you something,” Marvin promised. “You just get across those mountains as safely as you can, and I’ll get you here.”
“Thanks,” Ash said, hanging up.
Elliot glanced over, the dying firelight beneath the remains of their dinner on the fourth evening since leaving Central City playing over Ash’s features. He still looked worried.
“He getting us a plane?”
“I think he’ll at least point us to someone discreet. I don’t know if he’ll go so far as to contact whoever he finds, but he’ll cough up a name.”
“Everything else okay?”
“Yeah, why?”
Elliot closed his mouth and shrugged, not wanting to point out that Ash had promised if Elliot forgave him the first time, he’d not push him away again. He was too tired and irritable to press that particular button.
We all have a lot on our minds, not the least of which is Psycho Tim. Let it go for now. It was what he’d been telling himself since Charlotte had threatened Tim with a gun. The peace within the group was forced, as though all of them were waiting, watching the sizzle of a trail of gunpowder as it approached a powder keg, unable to stop it. They were all getting desperate, beyond tired of walking, though by now, their feet had adapted to the pain and their shoes were well broken in—even those who’d stolen new ones. The urge to lash out was rising, and the control to keep from doing it waning. They needed a boost, badly.
“No reason. Just checking,” he murmured, staring at the small flames licking the night. Supposing someone should finally clean the dinner pans, he stood and grabbed them with the firefighter’s glove Aaron had given to the group when he’d arrived. It enabled them to grip even burning logs to turn them over. If it weren’t for Aaron’s massive contributions, as well as Jennifer shoring Charlotte up and keeping her from squabbling with Ash, Elliot would have preferred they’d never met the others. But there was no doubt they’d supported the group far more than Elliot ever had.
He moved to the small pond beside which they’d squatted, having taken care to make sure they weren’t on some whackjob’s land. There were no posted signs, and the water was small, with nothing in view from any direction, so they’d chanced it. They wouldn’t be there long enough to make an impression anyway, up and off again with the sun, as they’d done the last few days.
To his surprise, Ash followed him. Charlotte and Riley had turned in early, and Aaron, Jennifer, and Tim were staring into the fire, lost in thought. Elliot planned to bathe and sleep as soon as this task was finished.
“Still have that gun I gave you?” Ash asked, taking the second pan from him. They’d pooled three of the freeze-dried food pouches of beef stew and split them between everyone. It hadn’t been the heartiest of meals, but they were running low, and without much in the way of trees, they hadn’t seen a deer in days. Their meat supply was dangerously low, and while Riley set traps, nothing was tripping them. The only thing they didn’t want for was water. It had rained the last couple days, adding to their misery. On the horizon to the south, there were building clouds, and Elliot worried they’d get hit with another thunderstorm. The first one hadn’t been too bad, but he knew they were in the plains in May: anything could happen.
“Yes, I’m still ready to shoot his head off if he attacks me again,” Elliot grumbled. “I say we ditch him.”
Ash didn’t look at him while they washed the pans, which took no time, but neither were in a hurry to return to the others. “We could, but then you’d probably die of guilt.”
Elliot gritted his teeth. Of course he would. Tim was in pain. His best friend was dead by Tim’s hand, even if it had been inevitable due to the infection. It didn’t help to tell him they all did what they had to in survival situations. Tim had only gotten more sullen.
“I don’t want to be responsible for anyone else’s death, so no, we can’t ditch him. Just kind of sick of looking over my shoulder.” Ghost tiptoed to the water’s edge and sniffed, then delicately drank. Elliot had never seen such a big dog behave so daintily.
“You won’t be, but I don’t want you dead either. Keep that gun on you.”
“Yessir,” Elliot said wearily, then smiled to soften the sarcasm.
“Not my kink,” Ash said with a wink. “C’mon. Let’s get clean and turn in early. I wanna hold you.”
Shaking his head at the change in demeanor, he followed Ash back to camp, where they dumped the pans by the fire, gathered supplies for a quick, utilitarian bath in the pond, and went to bed. Another day down, another one ahead.
The crash of thunder overhead woke Elliot with a start and outside, Ghost whined. Careful not to disturb Ash, who surprisingly hadn’t stirred, Elliot crawled over to let the dog in before the rain started. Wet dog made everyone miserable.
“It’s okay, boy.” Before he zipped the door again, he peered at the incoming weather, watching lightning fork across bruised and swollen clouds as the warm wind kicked up and swayed the tall grasses that surrounded the little pond. Elliot knew nothing about how to tell if a storm was going to be bad, and especially not in the middle of the night. All he could do was shut it out, lie back down, and try to block out the flapping of the tents in the increased breeze.
A couple thunder rumbles later, Ash startled awake.
“I brought Ghost in. Flimsy shelter, but still shelter.”
“Thass fine.” Ash’s words were sleep-slurred. “Wet dog’s gross.”
Elliot chuckled and rolled into Ash’s side. They’d taken to zipping their sleeping bags together so there was one big one instead of two. Elliot thought back to all they’d been through, from leaving New York City and camping out on Charlotte’s floor, the inmate attack, losing the van, Russ’s death, and everything that had happened since meeting up with Aaron’s group. Two months ago, a thunderstorm bearing down on him in a tent would have scared him, made him run what-ifs in his mind until it passed.
Tonight, he didn’t have the energy to worry. Worry got him nowhere. Worry made him seize. Instead, he b
urrowed into Ash’s side, as close as he could get, listening to the sounds of the storm as it closed in. It was almost… erotic, in a way. The wind was like heavy breathing and the thunder the moans, while the lightning silently lit up the sky like nerves filled with pleasure. His dick began to plump, and he pressed himself into Ash’s side.
“Mmmm,” Ash murmured, lazily stroking Elliot’s back with the arm on which he’d pillowed his head. “Hello, there.”
“Hi,” Elliot breathed into the crook of Ash’s neck, lifting his chin to capture Ash’s earlobe between his lips. “Too tired for this?”
“Uh-uh,” Ash mumbled in the negative. He rolled to his side and twined their legs, bringing Elliot’s erection in contact with the one beginning to tent his boxer briefs. Elliot grabbed Ash’s thigh and hiked his leg over his hip, rubbing against him with a shallow moan. Outside, the thunder rumbled almost constantly, and the lightning flashed against their tent walls like they were in front of a dozen cameras. The idea turned Elliot’s blood hot, as though there were people out there oblivious to what they were doing, and they were on the verge of being caught. Having gotten good at being quiet so as not to disturb their fellow campers, this felt different. Sharper. More immediate and hungrier.
“Ash,” Elliot whispered. “Fuck me.”
Ash didn’t say anything, just rolled Elliot to his back and peeled off both their underwear. The lube was never far away since the tent was cramped. From his corner, Ghost didn’t even bother to watch them, keeping his eyes on the tent ceiling as if he were waiting for the apocalypse to crack open over his head.