by D. Gideon
Cambridge, Maryland
Corey hadn’t been able to get the fuel filter off of the truck, but he had been able to limp it along for another half hour. We’d pulled into a marina just before the bridge leading into Cambridge and had parked the truck behind a sailboat dry-docked in the parking lot. It was the best we could do to hide it from the highway. Hopefully all of his tools that we couldn’t carry would stay safe in the back. Maybe we could swing by and get that stuff when we came back to “pay” for it with a deer.
We’d spent the rest of the afternoon stretched out in the back of the truck with the roll door open. Since we hadn’t had much luck so far today traveling in the daylight and we’d be on foot from here on out, we were going to try sneaking through Cambridge after dark. It would be harder to see us and easier to hide, curfew be damned.
I slept on the mattress nearly the entire time we were parked. Corey woke me up at dusk. We ate some of the coconut-flavored ration bars with canola-oil flavored water for dinner. King got the rest of what was in the peanut butter jar. It was better than nothing. If we couldn’t find another vehicle, the bars wouldn’t last long enough to get us home, though. With what we’d seen today going through Easton, I was worried we wouldn’t be able to find food.
“It’s okay, Rip. Remember, you can go three weeks without food,” Corey had reminded me. It didn’t make me feel any better.
There was no one manning the bridge into Cambridge; not even local police. Walking across the low, flat span with nowhere to run or hide had made me feel like I had a target on my back. Corey was carrying my pack. I’d gone to put it on without thinking, and my right shoulder instantly let me know that was not going to happen. I wanted to pull it behind me on one of the dollies from the truck, but Marco tested them out and nixed that idea. They squealed and rattled so loudly, everyone would be able to hear us coming from hundreds of feet away.
Marco had used some paracord to braid a collar for King while I slept, and the big guy seemed happy to have it. Maybe he thought we’d claimed him. He’d be able to slip out of the stretchy rope easily if he wanted to, but with another piece of rope looped through it, it would work well enough to keep anyone from claiming he was loose. He walked next to me on the bridge now, head high, stub wagging, nose going crazy as he tried to catch all the scents coming across the water. The rope was loose in my left hand; he never moved more than three feet from me as we walked.
Two fishing piers ran nearly the full length of the bridge, one on each side of the channel. Despite the curfew, there were a fair amount of people on both of them fishing and crabbing. Some used lanterns, others were just silhouettes against the red horizon. They worked silently, a few looking up and watching us until we passed by. Even separated by at least thirty feet of deep water, we were still a threat. They didn’t have anywhere to run or hide, either.
We passed two couples on the bridge going in the other direction, both groups of us staying as far as we could to our side of the lanes. Between King at my side, Marco carrying his shotgun, and Corey using the pry bar as a walking stick, I didn’t think anyone would try anything. After this morning though, I had to admit that anything was possible at this point. Things were just going to hell in a hand basket faster than I’d anticipated. I still hadn’t figured out what had made people seem to snap.
“Turn right at the first street,” Corey said, breaking the silence. He pointed to a sign we’d just passed under as we came off of the bridge. “There’s a hospital down there.”
“I can’t go in a hospital,” I said. “They’ll have to notify the police and report a gunshot wound, and that could get-” I started to say Marco, but stopped myself. “That could get us caught.”
“With all the shit that’s going on? Just tell them we were walking on the highway and someone drove by and took a pot shot at us,” Mel said.
“That’ll work,” Corey said. “Until we get another vehicle, we’re looking at days to get home, Rip. You need antibiotics. Take Mel in with you. We’ll stay outside with King.”
I grumbled, but he was right. I just hoped there weren’t cops stationed inside the emergency room.
We walked down the street of a quiet, old neighborhood with tall narrow houses. Curious as to why none of them were burned, I shone my flashlight up and looked for the power lines. There weren’t any. There had been at one point, but now there were just brittle, frayed remnants of lines hanging off of the poles. They must have been so old they simply burned up faster than the fire could spread. We saw some people sitting on their porches, and many of the homes had some dim, flickering light inside.
The hospital was at the end of the street, and as we got closer, we could hear voices. Once we entered the parking lot we could see a crowd of people at the front door, where a sign instructed us to go if we were looking for Emergency. They were loud, but they didn’t look violent.
“Crowds are a bad idea,” Marco said. He adjusted the shotgun, trying to tuck as much of it as he could under the Jack Skellington backpack he was again wearing on his chest. Mel was carrying his bat on her shoulder, and she didn’t bother trying to hide it.
“We’ll see what this is all about and decide,” Corey said. He looked at his watch, holding it out at arm’s length so he could read it without his glasses. “It’s nine o’clock. Visiting hours should be over by now.”
“There’s no lights in the whole place,” Mel said. “I’d say visiting hours were over a couple days ago.”
We walked up behind the crowd, and King stopped, not wanting to get any closer. I couldn’t blame him. Marco stepped up behind me and bent close to my ear.
“If you’re going to stand here, don’t move,” he said. “It’s easier to hide the shotgun with you in front of me.”
Corey pointed at the doors and then to his ear, and I nodded. He was going to try to go up there and see what he could “hear”, or find out. Mel grabbed one of his belt loops and followed him into the crowd.
“Tell us what’s going on in there,” a woman shouted.
“I haven’t seen my mother in two days,” another called out.
There were threats to sue, threats to break the doors down, and threats to “get the Sheriff out here”. I looked around and saw more people drifting out of the nearby streets and converging onto the parking lot. Some of them headed for the doors, others kept their distance, but were still close enough to see.
“I’ve got a broken arm!” A man yelled. “You have to treat me! It’s the law!”
“Yeah, tell them you’re sick! They’ll have to let us in,” another called out. There was a murmur across the crowd, and suddenly all of the people were yelling that they had ailments that needed to be seen right away. The volume of the mob increased significantly, and people began pushing forward.
Marco tugged on my belt. “We should back up.”
I nodded and walked backwards, Marco’s hand on my belt guiding me. Once we were about twenty feet from the crowd Marco stopped me, and we stood for a few minutes, just watching. I stretched up on my toes, but even with Corey’s height, I couldn’t see him in the crowd anymore.
Shots rang out and the crowd panicked and broke. They scattered in all directions, many turning and running straight at us.
Marco spun me and pushed. “Go! Go!”
More shots went off as we raced across the parking lot. We didn’t stop to see if anyone was hurt. I nearly tripped as we went over the landscaping at the edge of the lot and across the road. Marco steered me towards a dark shadow cast by a tall yellow house. We ran down the side of the house and took cover behind a small side porch. The people who had been running near us kept going, back towards the highway at the other end of the street.
The shooter fired more rounds and I heard glass breaking.
“What about Corey and Mel?” I hissed, crouching down behind the little wooden structure.
“They’ll be hiding. We’ll find them when the shooting stops,” Marco said. “Be quiet.”
K
ing stood in front of me, looking around the edge of the porch and barely panting from our sprint. He was tense and quivering, his ears pushed forward at full alert. Then he snapped his head towards the house and huffed.
The storm door to the porch opened, and a fluff ball of a dog shot out, skidding to a stop at the edge of the porch. He started barking loud enough to wake the dead.
Chapter 17
Tuesday, September 4th
Cambridge, Maryland
“Oh, dangit. Chester, be quiet! Get back in here,” an older woman’s voice whispered, but Chester wasn’t listening. He yapped down at King with an authority that only a very small dog can muster.
“Chester!” she hissed again, and pushed the door wider. I saw a slippered foot mere inches from my face, and then hands reached down and scooped Chester up. He stopped barking, but continued to growl and whine as he wriggled to get free.
“Oh! Goodness! Where’d you come from?” she whispered, and King huffed, wagging his nub. I looked up and saw her look around the door, and behind her glasses, her eyes went wide.
“What are you two doing back there?" she said in a stage whisper.
“Just hiding, ma’am. Someone’s shooting,” I said, keeping my voice low. As if to prove my point, we heard the gun fire again.
“Well I can hear that, I was poking my head out to see,” the woman said. “Get on up in the house. It ain’t safe out here.” She waved a hand at us, urging us around the porch.
King didn’t need further convincing. He went straight for the small steps and up onto the porch, pulling the rope from my surprised hands. Marco moved out of our hidey-hole and crouch-walked around the little porch, and I did my best to imitate him, gathering up King’s rope leash as I went.
“Hurry up now,” the woman said. “Get in before you get shot.”
We pushed into the dark house and she shut the storm door behind us, then I heard the thump of a heavier door.
“Don’t move, you’re liable to trip on Chester. Give me just a second to get some light,” she said. Chester protested when she put him down, and a second later I heard a match scratching. A tall candle flared into light, revealing a dated but immaculate kitchen.
“There,” she said, turning to look at us. “I’m Faye, and that there’s Chester.” She pointed at the little dog, who I could see now was an aging Pomeranian. He and King were nose-to-nose, tail and stub wagging. “You two sit down and tell me your names.”
We took seats at an old-fashioned Formica table and introduced ourselves and King. Outside, we heard more shots fire off. Faye glared towards the street and mumbled something under her breath about all that noise when she was trying to entertain company.
“Miss Faye, thank you so much for letting us inside, but…do you realize how dangerous that is right now? How did you know we wouldn’t come inside and rob you?” I asked.
She snorted and pulled a small bag of dog food from a lower cabinet. “I’ve lived a long time, and I’ve never seen muggers both covered in Band-Aids and walking a dog,” she said. “How’d you know I wasn’t trying to get you in here so I could shoot you and take your money?”
“Well, I…” I started, but shrugged. “We’ve never seen a robber in a housecoat and slippers?” I looked to Marco for help, but he was trying not to grin and shaking his head.
“I have,” Faye said. “My husband, at the nursing home after the dementia got too bad, tried to hold up the nurses. He was convinced they had pizza and he wanted some. Turned out the gun in his pocket was his wallet.” She winked at Marco, who couldn’t help but chuckle, and then poured the dog food into a bowl by the back door.
“C’mere, baby. No, not you Chester, you little pig. You already ate.” She picked up Chester and tapped the bowl. “C’mere, King. Eat.”
She waited for King to start eating, then turned and pointed at Marco. “You can stand that shotgun by the back door. I never let the men have guns at the table and I’m not about to start now.”
“Yes ma’am,” Marco said, and started to get up. I held up a hand.
“We can’t stay. We’ve got two friends out there that we need to find,” I said.
Fayed pulled out one of the metal chairs and settled herself down onto the bright yellow padded seat. “If your friends are smart, they’ll be hiding, like you are,” she said.
“We could find them and bring them here, and hide together,” I said.
Marco moved to the back wall of the kitchen on the opposite side of the room and leaned the shotgun next to a back door with a large doggie door cut in the bottom.
“Ripley, what’s the code words?” he said.
“Bread and milk,” I responded automatically.
“And how long do we wait?”
“An hour…but they’re right there,” I said, gesturing towards the street.
“We don’t know that. They could have run back out to the highway with the others,” Marco said. “They could be down the side road, or anywhere on the hospital grounds. We’ll be wasting time and energy trying to find them. We’ll go back out just before an hour is up, and wait for them by the hospital doors.”
“They could be on the ground bleeding at the doors right now,” I said.
“Would you be able to help them if they were?” Faye asked. “It hasn’t looked like they’re letting anyone into the hospital since yesterday morning.”
“I can.” I nodded. “I’ve spent years training to be a veterinarian. I can stop the bleeding, apply a tourniquet-”
Realization hit me and I stopped. “Crap. Corey’s got my backpack, Marco.”
Marco sat back down on the edge of his chair, adjusting his two packs. “Then they have two tourniquets and your first-aid kit. They’ll be fine, love.”
More pops sounded in the distance and I squirmed in my seat. “I need to go see. They could be hurt.”
Marco sighed. “If I go check the hospital doors to make sure they aren’t lying there shot, will you stay here and wait?”
I watched him for a moment, trying to decide. After what happened at the building supply, I wasn’t sure if I should trust him. What if he found them hurt? Would he kill them out of convenience, and claim it was mercy?
That’s ridiculous, I thought. Corey is his best friend. Stop letting your imagination run wild.
“I wouldn’t go back out there until we’re sure the shooting’s stopped,” Faye said.
“Alone, I can get over there and back quickly,” he said. He raised an eyebrow. “Promise me you’ll stay?”
“I’ll stay,” I said, nodding. “Go. Please.”
He stood and quickly stripped off his packs. As he opened the inner door, I grabbed his hand.
“Be careful,” I said.
“They won’t even see me,” he said, and slipped out the storm door.
Chapter 18
Tuesday, September 4th
Cambridge, Maryland
King trotted to the door and huffed, then gave a little whine. Chester imitated him, standing up on his hind legs so he could see out of the glass.
“That’s a brave young man you’ve got there,” Faye said, watching me carefully. I fidgeted.
“I might have him, but he doesn’t have me,” I said, trying to smile to make a joke of it. Faye’s look told me my expression wasn’t very convincing. She didn’t say anything.
“He’s…done some things,” I said, hurrying to fill the silence. “Since this all started, he’s not the same person. He’s…hurt people.”
“Did he put his hands on you, honey?” she asked, leaning forward and taking one of my hands. “Is that what all those bandages are from?”
“No, not me,” I said. I gestured at my face with my free hand. “He…hurt the person who did this.”
She watched me for a moment, head tilted, then sat back and nodded. “So he hurt somebody to protect you.”
“I had already been shot,” I said. “The guy couldn’t hurt me anymore. He wasn’t a threat. And Marco just…” I stopp
ed, realizing I was about to say too much. King came over and dropped his head onto my lap, and little Chester, not to be outdone, started hopping at my knee to be picked up. I pulled him into my lap and tried to ward off his eager kisses.
“Men aren’t complicated creatures, honey,” Faye said. “It’s in their DNA to be the protectors. He showed you what he’s capable of doing to protect you. That can be very frightening, if you’re around to see it.”
It was more shock than fright, really. Marco had told me he’d done these types of things. He’d let me know right up front what he was capable of, but that was a long time ago, and I hadn’t been there. It was one thing to listen to a retelling of it, and another to be standing right there when it happened. One part of my mind was screaming that Marco might be a monster, and another part was quietly saying he did the right thing.
That’s what unsettled me the most. That little voice that said if I was honest with myself, I would admit that I wasn’t actually mad at him. I was mad at myself, because I thought it was the right thing to do.
And what does that make me? I thought.
Faye got up and began puttering around her kitchen, straightening things, dipping a washrag in a little bowl of water and wiping the already spotless counters. Chester settled down in my lap, turning his attention to King. King sighed and held still while Chester licked his face.
“I used to live in California,” Faye said, getting my attention. “Los Angeles was the place to be, back then. It’s where everything was happening. I was just seventeen when the race riots started. I was working as a cashier at a grocery store, and I’d been dating Franklin for a few months. He had worked his way up to Assistant Manager, and was three years older than me…which was just scandalous to my parents. That’s part of why I consented to date him. Well, he was nice to look at, too.”
She looked over her shoulder and winked at me, and I smiled.
“He was the most handsome boy I’d ever laid eyes on, and he was so sweet and polite. Just a gentle teddy bear. It was on the fourth night of the riots—the police had a curfew out, like they do now—and Franklin insisted on walking me home from work.”