“Vida and I are going to ride with Pastor Jim,” Gabe tells the pair in a rare moment of silence between them. The tension inside the car radiates out, and Howard’s arms cross in a pout.
“Are you sure?” Gloria’s rage melts away and she shows concern for her father-in-law.
“He said so, didn’t he?” Howard says.
Gabe quickly leads Vida away as the cold war inside the blue car becomes very hot. Voices raise and curses fly until they are suppressed by the raising window.
“They don’t even seem to like each other,” Vida says. “Why do they stay married?”
“On the contrary, they love one another very much. But they also love to argue. It’s what they have most in common. I just spent three weeks with them at their house up north. If you think their bickering is loud, you should hear their reconciliation.”
Vida chuckles as Gabe shakes his head. “They didn’t really do it with you in the house, did they?”
“I’m surprised they didn’t do it last night with us in the car.”
Vida and Gabe stop at a white panel van with a large cross painted on its side and the words Saint John’s. The man behind the wheel manually cranks down his window when he notices them.
Gabe makes the introductions, “Pastor Jim, this is Vida. Would you mind if we joined you on the road?”
“Kids at it again?”
“That would imply that they’ve ever stopped,” Gabe quips.
“I’ve seen couples fight right up to the altar. Some even right after. That pair are the only two I’ve ever married that argued during the ceremony.”
Though many felt leery of Vida’s presence at first, despite Gabriel’s assurance that her bite wound was made by a human, the pastor accepts them with a smile. “Hop in!”
Once they’ve settled in the back, among boxes of musty clothes that Pastor Jim had planned on taking to a church fundraising bazaar, Gloria’s horn blares at the front of the pack. In succession, each vehicle returns the gesture to let her know they are ready. Back on the road, the convoy continues south, heading for what they hope are greener pastures.
“Gloria said she offered you a change of clothes and you turned them down…” Gabe says.
Vida fidgets, adjusting her blood caked garments before attempting to explain herself. “These shirts… are special to me.”
That’s all she volunteers and he doesn’t press for more. When she’s ready, she knows there are plenty of clothes to wear. Vida will tell him her story in her own time.
“We’re stopping?” Pastor Jim says.
“Already?” Gabe cranes to see the road ahead.
There must be something wrong.
The train of hopeful travelers comes to a halt where a large black truck is parked across the road. That wasn’t here before, Vida recalls, having taken this road just yesterday.
From around the truck, a black haired man emerges, holding a rifle level with the convoy. He releases a quick salvo, peppering Gloria’s hood and dotting every door down the line. “Everybody out!”
Gabe quickly transplants handfuls of clothes from one box to another to make room. “Vida, get in! Hurry!”
“What about you?” she asks with concern.
“I’ll be all right,” he assures her as she hides. “I promise.”
She can only hide and pray that Gabe remains true to his word. She trembles in the nest of rags as she watches him slide out into the unknown situation, leaving her alone.
The motorists are ordered to get on their knees along their vacant rides with no exceptions. Men, women, and children alike are held at gunpoint by three men. Another truck blocks the rear of the procession to prevent escape. The black haired man talks while his collaborators aim their weapons.
“Good news, folks!” he says. “You have all been selected to come with us to our place. It’s secure. We have food and plenty of guns and ammo. We’re looking to fill positions in our militia, and we want you!” He points at the group like Uncle Sam on the old recruitment posters. “So after my men make room in this van, we’ll load you all up and head for our base of operations.”
He has singled out Pastor Jim’s van, and Gabe fears what they may do to Vida should they find her hiding. He fears for all the members of his group that have put their trust in him to get them to safety. He raises his hand and clears his throat. "Excuse me, sir. We’re already on our way to Florida. We appreciate your offer, but we really must decline.”
The thug doesn’t look pleased by this challenge to his authority. He grabs Gabe by his shirt and pulls him out of the lineup.
Unable to fight or pull away, Gabe is yanked along the rough surface of the road. The leader of the trio lifts him to eye level and glares menacingly. His voice is a growl. “You’ll go where I say you’ll go!”
“Hey!” Gloria stands up after Gabe is tossed back to the hard ground, and she rushes to his side. “What the fuck is wrong with you? He’s an old man!”
“Bitch, you better git back…”
“Bitch? Oh, you have no idea! Howard, are you going to let him talk to me this way? Or treat your dad like that?”
Howard remains quiet. One of the large thugs holds a shotgun less than a foot from his face. His wife scoffs at his inaction.
“What’s the fuss, people? We’re offering you a great opportunity here,” the leader says, while running a comb through his thick black mane. “Look at what you’re packing. Two rifles and some field hockey equipment. We have really big guns and lots of--”
Gloria utters something under her breath that infuriates him.
“Overcompensating?” he screams, as he scans the people in front of him. Even his thugs stifle their smiles. “I’ll show you what your smart mouth is good for!”
He grabs her by the back of her head, tightly entangling his fingers in her hair and pulling her from where she tries to help Gabe. Then he yanks her by her arm and storms away from the worried looking spectators and crying children.
His quick pace is hard for Gloria to keep up with. She screams out in pain and fury.
On the other side of his truck, he makes Gloria kneel. Then he unzips his fly and tells Gloria what she expected.
“I hardly ever do that for my husband.” She grimaces at the sight of his penis. “I’m sure as hell not going to do it for you!”
He shoves his hand down her white tank top to grope her breasts. When she denies him and pulls away, he squeezes hard.
“I ain’t asking!”
Something odd draws her attention away from the offensive thing he pushes closer to her face. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees a brightly colored, juggling clown barreling down on them on a unicycle.
The leader follows her gaze, but is too late.
A loud slam precedes a heavy object striking the leader’s windpipe. Then a second strikes his exposed genitals. All of his aspirations evaporate once he hits the ground and tries to breathe.
Gloria marvels at the heroic jester who is about to collide with the black truck. Instead he slides under it, his one-wheeled steed making sparks of friction along the asphalt.
“Clown! Clown!” one of the large thugs shrieks. He drops his weapon and hides behind his remaining massive partner.
Everyone is taken off guard, none more so than the thug being used as a human shield. Before he can raise his weapon, the clown draws a pistol from the fake potbelly of his costume while still lying on the street.
“Let me guess. He’s afraid of clowns, right? Thinks we’re creepy?”
The clown disarms both remaining thugs before his backup arrives.
###
Vida remains quiet, listening to the screams. She begged Gloria internally to stop making things worse, and then started to cry for her as the woman was dragged off. Vida thinks about Brad and how he had similar intentions for her, and she can’t believe the world they now live in has become such a nightmare. Loud pops made her cringe and fear that the men had just shot one of her new acquaintances. But high
-pitched cries about clowns have her completely baffled.
Gabe appears at the sliding door. “Vida, you can come out now. It’s all over.”
She emerges from her hiding spot and enters a surreal scene. Her fellow nomads smile as she studies an ice cream truck, a purple Camaro, and the small band of thugs lying face down on the ground. Perhaps the oddest addition is a clown in full regalia who Gloria approaches and kisses on a painted cheek.
“Thank you! That was incredible,” she gushes. “It’s more than my husband was going to do for me.”
“Aww, Gloria! What could I do?” Howard says.
The clown introduces himself to the convoy as Brock Rottom, while he and Gabe use the laces from a box of shoes in Pastor Jim’s van to tie up the villains. Two young men traveling with Brock hold weapons on the thugs. The sight of the two, in their camouflage fatigues, makes Vida’s heart skip a beat. All she can think about is Brad. The spell of post-traumatic stress passes when she sees they are different. They also travel with a woman in a maid’s uniform who carries a baby on her hip.
“You all hungry?” Brock asks, dusting his hands after securing the criminals.
The thankful travelers nod.
“Oh, I am going to make you such a feast!”
The clown plods away on oversized feet, completely overjoyed to have so many grateful diners to provide for. Vida hugs Gabe for his thoughtful actions on her behalf, and his bravery in the face of such a threat.
One of the soldiers, Brock had called him Rage, strolls up to the relieved pair. “Where are you all heading?”
“Florida,” Gabe says. “I have a place in Harrington.”
“It’s a long way. We’re heading to Fort Eagle Rock. You can all join us.”
“No, thank you. We do appreciate the rescue, but my farm can provide us with what we need.”
Rage compares stories with Gabe regarding the past couple days, but Vida only half listens. The other soldier keeps looking at her, and when she returns his gaze he breaks eye contact. She grows uneasy about the one called Chachi, who looks vaguely familiar, and now walks up to them with an odd look upon his face.
Chachi stands among them, across from Vida, who instinctively wraps her sweatshirt around herself tightly when she notices him staring at her chest. He’s nodding along to his partner’s story but continues to look her up and down. She wonders if he’s checking her out, or if he’s seen the bandage below her ‘Zurvived’ t-shirt. Either way, she is compelled to cover herself up.
Rage and Gabe conclude their recaps and make polite small talk. They take comfort in the act of simply speaking.
“Florida. I’m kinda jealous,” Rage tells Gabe. “They say the winter here is going to be a real bear.”
“That’s what I heard,” Gabe agrees. “That’s why I decided to retire someplace warm. No shoveling or salting, no slipping and falling.”
“Food’s up!” The clown calls from the serving window of his ice cream truck.
Vida and Gabe excuse themselves just as Chachi is about to speak. Gabe offers her his arm so he can escort her to the first real meal either has had in a while, which as it turns out comes with a show that is also free. Brock the clown delights the diners with balloon animals and magic tricks. However no stunt, nor treat, not even his best joke, brings the group more joy than what he has already given them--their freedom.
12
The convoy of survivors has not only been bestowed with a bountiful feast and many provisions to take with them on the long trek south, but they also receive many of the firearms the thugs that had stopped them were carrying. Pastor Jim and Gabe conversed with the clown and soldiers about what to do with the criminals. They couldn’t execute them, nor did the soldiers want to be burdened with taking them to the base. They decided to let them go, after giving the convoy a generous head start with the new weapons. To do otherwise would be akin to a death sentence.
The pastor put it best, “Perhaps if we show them mercy, they will follow our example.”
As they push on, the survivors can only hope the savage men have learned their lesson.
To their surprise, the road is unusually busy today. A small red truck now approaches them from the opposite direction. It is so similar to the one that ambushed them it makes Gloria slow down. Cautiously she crawls past it, not sure what to expect. Howard is ready in the passenger seat with a rifle just in case.
The man behind the wheel offers them no threat, just a stoic hand in the air as he coasts by. A sign of camaraderie that is happily returned by each motorist. They are relieved to share the road with peaceful people, as well as the heroes out there that will stand up for underdogs like them against bullies and bandits.
Not much road passes beneath them before they see yet another vehicle coming from the opposite direction. A massive RV that is so wide it practically spills over the yellow lines on the blacktop. The driver of the Winnebago offers the same greeting as the battered, bloody-faced man that passed them in the red truck.
Gabe assures Vida they will be turning off of this highway halfway between Poland Creek and Waterloo, where they’ll head due east for a while. Everyone agrees that they will be much happier when they are on a road less traveled.
13
Nursing a bruised ego and sore testicles, Marko is on the lookout for someone to punish for his embarrassing attempt at recruitment. Not only were he and his men rebuked, they were forced to lie on the road, ignored like garbage, while the people ate and talked. His blood boiled as the children laughed and the clown made jokes at their expense. After the caravan was on its way, the jester made them swear that they wouldn’t continue with their ‘evil ways,’ and he warned that the next person to stop them may not be so lenient.
“Fuck that clown,” Marko says, now alone in his truck.
He may have lost most of the guns he and his boys had loaded into their beds that morning, but they still have a few, and the radios they acquired from their headquarters. Like a schoolyard bully, he feels he needs to make someone else pay for his recent scolding and the disrespect he was shown, and pay big. He sits in wait like a spider on a web while Jessie and Biff troll the side roads. Then he spots their next target.
“That’ll do.” He sneers at a large RV, then calls out his orders over a handset. He wants the cousins to catch up to the camper and drive them to the location of his choosing.
It was only a stroke of luck that he spotted the RV from a side road. He races ahead to position himself for another ambush. This is different, he tells himself. There’s only one of them. It’s big and slow. Easy pickin’s.
Parked across the road leading into Poland Creek, he waits. Jessie and Biff have been ordered to toy with the behemoth. Ram it from behind to make the driver panic and more prone to making a mistake.
The RV turns left as the red truck crashes into its rear end. It almost rolls as the tires on its left side lose contact with the road. With a squeal, the RV stops just short of Marko’s truck and reverses. It doesn’t seem to be planning a retreat but gaining room to dart around the obstruction. Marko fires a short burst from his AK-47 but is unable to take out the tires.
Sufficient room gained, the camper jolts forward to swerve around the truck. Marko unleashes another salvo into the windshield and the driver reacts, banking too hard to the right. The RV rolls.
Like a die cast, the boxy recreational vehicle strikes the hard surface with every side until momentum is spent and fate chooses which one it’ll come to rest on. It briefly slides along the asphalt on the driver’s side.
Beaming with pride, Marko lights a cigarette. His associates join him to admire their toppled quarry. “Jessie, get in there and see if there’s a prize inside.”
The RV has landed door side up. Jessie must stand in the bed of his truck to climb up while Biff brings him into position. Marko is surprised the two came up with the idea all by themselves, He expected to have to watch the heavy man attempt several times before instructing him.
; The crippled RV shakes as Jessie scrambles to exit after what seems like an excessively long inspection to Marko. Jessie grimaces and grunts as he emerges topside with the pilfered booty.
“This is all they have?” Marko can’t believe it. He expected it to be a piñata full of goodies. That anyone who could afford such an extravagant vacation vehicle would have more to offer than a cooler of sandwiches, warm sodas, and a nickel-plated 9mm. “Fuck!”
“There’s two oldies inside,” Jessie says, still huffing and puffing from his workout. “I think they’re dying.”
Ignoring the concern in his lackey’s voice, Marko tells him to haul them out.
“I’m not sure if we should move them,” Biff says. “Couldn’t it make their injuries worse? If we want to help them…”
“We’re not helping them,” Marko says. “Just get in there and haul them out before they croak. I want them chained in the back of my truck. Got it?”
While his men toil inside the cavity of the RV, struggling to carry out the survivors, Marko sits on the hood of his truck eating the lunch of his victims and contemplating his next move. Let’s see what else the road has to offer.
14
“I’m just saying it was bigger than yours, Howard,” Gloria says. “Maybe I should have just gone for it.”
“I’m sure that asshole is sorry he missed out on having to hear you complain the whole time,” Howard says. “Guys love that.”
“In my experience, they do. It makes them feel more endowed.”
“Terrific,” he ends the topic before it leads to his wife reminiscing about her ex-boyfriends, as that usually results in a blowout. “Our turn is coming up.”
Life Among The Dead (Book 3): A Bittersweet Victory Page 10