Legion of Despair: Book Three in The Borrowed World Series

by Horton, Franklin

  “A tarp is disrespectful, Gary,” Debra said. “This isn’t a deer we’re talking about, it’s our son-in-law. It should be a sheet or a blanket. It’s much more suitable. We have them to spare, it’s not a big deal.”

  “I know what I’m doing and we can’t use a sheet,” Gary replied. He turned to walk off.

  “Of course we can,” Debra insisted. She couldn’t give it up. It was a sign she wasn’t coping well that this had become such a big issue for her. She was melting down. “People wrapped the dead in sheets for centuries. It will be fine.” She thrust the sheet at him again.

  He turned back to her, lowered his eyes to the sheet, but still would not take it.

  “Gary,” she said, her voice louder this time.

  When he didn’t take the sheet from her, she threw it at him. “Take it,” she said, her voice shrill and bordering on hysteria. “Take the stupid sheet.”

  Gary stepped closer to her and lowered his voice. “Dammit, Debra, a sheet won’t work,” he hissed. “They nearly cut his head off his body. There’s blood everywhere. We have to use something that won’t soak through.”

  He turned and walked off, leaving the sheet in the floor. Debra was still standing there, her mouth open in shock. Tears spilled to the floor but Gary did not see them. Debra covered her mouth and sagged against the wall.

  As they stood over his body, Gary pulled his headlight from his head and tossed it into the grass. He did not want to see too clearly what had to be done. It was bad enough to only infer in the darkness the damage that had been done to Dave. To shine light fully upon it and be confronted by the obscenity, the desecration of his flesh, was too much for them.

  Gary spread the blue tarp beside the body, trying not to look at it. He pulled Nitrile gloves from his pocket, handing a pair to Will and stretching a pair onto his own hands. He took a deep breath, pushed it out through clenched teeth, and bent over the body. He placed a hand on Dave’s shoulder, finding it cold to the touch, and attempted to roll him over. Dave was on his side, facing away from the tarp. Gary had thought he would roll easily in this position but that was not the case. Rigor mortis had already set in.

  Gary got on his knees in front of the body and pushed on Dave’s shoulder with both hands. The body finally moved and rolled to its back, breaking loose with it a clotted mass of blood that had glued the body to the grass. Gary’s stomach rolled. The body had been in a fetal position on its side, the head curled down toward the chest as Gary rolled it onto its back. Now on its back, gravity broke loose whatever forces were holding the nearly severed head in position. With a wet croaking sound, the head yawed slowly backward until it rested on the ground, the gaping wound opening like the enormous mouth of some legendary beast. The movement of the head cleared the airway and a burbling of air escaped the corpse. Gary turned away and began dry heaving, his body wracking both from his convulsing sobs and the spasms of his stomach.

  Will took Gary’s place then, steeled himself, and rolled the body the rest of the way. He gritted his teeth, pushing with his legs until he got his brother-in-law onto the tarp. He quickly threw the loose end of the tarp over the body, concealing it from his sight. When he started to get to his feet, he realized that his knees were damp, Dave’s blood having soaked into his pants.

  The contents of his stomach were rising into his mouth. Will tried to choke it down, to stay strong, but he could not contain it. He erupted, spewing vomit in the other direction. He staggered to his feet and walked off into the darkness, bent at the waist, throwing up the whole way. He cried at this point. Not for Dave or Charlotte or even their children, but for the thought that this could have been him. His wife could be in there mourning him. His daughter could get up tomorrow and have to face life without him. He could not leave her to this world alone. Who would protect her?

  He would have to become the kind of man that Gary accused Jim of being, the kind of man who sometimes used killing as a preventative measure, the kind of man who killed offensively rather than defensively. Gary was always saying that he only wanted to kill if he had no other choice. Every time they faced such a situation, Gary would point out that his friend Jim would have handled it differently. Will did not fault Gary for being the way he was, but he was beginning to see an efficiency in the way Jim handled things. He put out fires before they spread. He killed when he had the advantage. He killed so that he didn’t have to worry about the bad guy killing him or someone he loved later.

  Certainly, Gary had to deal with this new world in a way that he could live with. For his part, Will was not sure he could live in this new world without becoming the kind of man that Jim was. He could not sleep at night with loose ends haunting his sleep. He would rather deal with the consequences of his overreaction than have to bury his child.

  Gary was so enraged by Dave’s death that he took a step he would not have taken even a few days ago. He gathered the bodies of the three men they’d killed, tied them by the ankles to the back of his lawnmower, and dragged their bodies all the way down to the bottom of his driveway. He stopped at the nearest road sign, one posting the speed limit. He stood the first body up against the sign and removed a two-foot long zip tie from his belt, looped it around the man’s neck and the sign post, then yanked it tight. When he stood back, the man hung there, kept on his feet only by his bound neck.

  Gary did the same with the next man, standing him by the first. The third man got the same treatment. When he was done, the three dead men encircled the signpost. Gary had carried a plywood sign down in his lap and he hung it from one of the men’s necks, facing the road:

  THESE MEN WERE THIEVES

  On his way back up the hill, one thought nagged at Gary. Wesley Molloy was not among the dead men. That meant he was still out there. Shortly though, his continued existence would no longer be Gary’s problem. Molloy could have this town and everything in it.

  They all agreed it was better to bury Dave there today than to take him to the new place. They didn’t know how long they would be there and they didn’t want to have to abandon him to strangers if the new arrangement didn’t work out. If they buried him in the yard of his own home, he’d be there among the fruits of his labor and hopefully they would all rejoin him one day when things got back to normal.

  There was a short debate about whether the children should attend the graveside service or not, and it was Karen who settled it. She had seen how Charlotte was sinking into a dark hole and needed something to pull her back. She convinced her parents that it might be beneficial for Charlotte to see that she still had responsibilities in this world. Debra was not so sure they could pull Charlotte out of her grief. Charlotte had moved past the violent sobbing and gone to a constant wail that was unsettling to everyone. It was similar to the howl of a dog and had the same spine-chilling effect.

  Will and Gary dug the hole, only making it down to around four feet before they hit a rock that they could not pry loose or move around. It would have to be deep enough. They went ahead and placed the body there so that it was already in the ground when everyone came out for the service. Karen had snipped some flowers from the perennial bed in front of the house. She gave everybody, even the children, some to toss into the grave.

  There was no one but Gary to say words over the body. In a family, all of the worst duties always fell to the patriarch or matriarch. Debra had to tell Charlotte that her husband was dead, Gary had to wrap the body, and now Gary had to speak over him. There was plenty of unpleasant work to go around.

  Standing there over the grave, Gary realized that the last time he’d celebrated Dave’s life was when he offered a toast at his wedding to Charlotte. He was neither a minister nor an orator by nature. He spoke plainly and honestly of his son-in-law in his role as such, as a father, and as a husband. The adults fought to maintain composure. Of the children, only Sara’s daughter, Lana, seemed to have any comprehension of what was happening, but she may have just been feeding off the uncontainable sadness of the adults. Charl
otte crouched at the foot of the grave, still wailing, as Gary and Will filled it. Only when it was full did she allow Karen to lead her away, the wail tapering to a moan due to sheer exhaustion.

  She still had not acknowledged her children.

  *

  What few things they’d needed overnight were hastily shoved into the packed vehicles as they prepared to leave. Gary started to lock the house, but ended up leaving it unlocked. Perhaps it would discourage any vandals from breaking the windows out and leaving the house exposed to the elements.

  It’s only a house, Gary reminded himself. Still, it felt like more than that. It felt like a part of his life he was leaving behind.

  The truck required a boost and a blast of starter fluid to get the engine cranking. As they started the other vehicles and prepared to leave, it became clear that Gary’s vehicle assignments were going to have to be modified. With Dave dead, his already packed vehicle needed a driver. It was also clear that Charlotte was probably not in any shape to be driving a vehicle. In her state of mind, she could intentionally drive herself off an embankment just to put an end to her suffering.

  Alice agreed to drive Dave’s vehicle. There was probably gear in there that they didn’t need now that Dave wasn’t going with them but it was too late to sort it out and repack. They could do that later.

  Karen would switch with Charlotte, who would now ride with Debra while her kids remained in her minivan with Karen. Gary knew that his family was capable, but they were a man down and vulnerable. They were traumatized and sleep deprived. He hoped they didn’t run into anything too challenging. He just didn’t have a lot of faith in their abilities right now. Timing, judgment, stamina – it was probably all impacted by the night they’d had. Everyone had earned an easy day and he hoped they’d get it.

  Gary assigned an order to the vehicles and instructed them not to pass each other, even on the four-lane highway. They were to remain in the assigned order. Each vehicle received a handheld radio set to a common frequency. Each driver was reminded to have a weapon available and ready.

  “When I say I want your weapons ready, I mean one in the chamber ready to go,” Gary said. “You may have to drive with one hand and shoot with the other. You can’t count on having time to chamber a round first. I want you to be able to pick up your weapon and start firing.”

  Everyone got in their vehicles and belted up. Gary got on his radio. “Whenever you’re ready, Will.”

  Will eased out, the trailer tracking behind him, rattling and creaking under the load.

  “We took out one threat last night,” Gary said into his radio. “We killed off the punks on the dirt bikes, but we don’t know what else is out there. Keep your eyes open for anything suspicious. If something doesn’t look right, stop in the road and we’ll check it out. I do not want to lead this whole group into a trap.”

  “Got it,” Will replied.

  “Everyone else with us? Sound off in order,” Gary said.

  “I’m here,” Debra said.

  “Me too,” Karen replied.

  “Here,” Sara piped in.

  “I’m here,” Alice said.

  “Good,” Gary said. “Let’s keep it tight and call out if you have trouble.”

  While he wasn’t sure what everyone else was experiencing, Gary felt a nearly overwhelming anxiety. Years ago, he’d rented an RV for a family trip. The vehicle was enormous and he’d never driven anything like it before. He was constantly worried he was straying out of his lane or going to hit a curb when he took a turn. There was the fear he was going to hit an awning when he refueled or that he was going to get into some jam he couldn’t back up out of. It was exhausting and that was how this felt at the moment, like he was maneuvering some awkward and barely controllable behemoth down a narrow, unfamiliar road. He would be glad when this day was over.

  They approached the intersection with the four-lane Route 19.

  “This is where Alice and I got hijacked, Will,” Gary said into the radio. “Keep your eyes open.”

  Gary did the same, scanning every clump of bushes, trying to see beyond the guardrail and over every embankment. He saw nothing out of the ordinary.

  “Looks clear,” Will said. “I don’t see anything.”

  “Then hit it,” Gary said. “Keep moving.”

  Will pulled onto the highway without incident. Gary came next. He drove slowly and saw the blood-smeared asphalt where he and Alice had encountered the men asking that a toll be paid. He scanned his mirrors and saw each trailing vehicle enter the highway without incident.

  “We’re all good,” Gary said into the radio. “Let’s crank it up to about forty-five miles per hour. Will, if you see anything in the roadway, go ahead and stop so we can check it out. We’ve got to watch for traps.”

  “Roger that,” Will said.

  In a few minutes, they passed the office complex where Gary, Jim, and Alice worked and where Gary had gotten the truck. Immediately beyond it, they passed the armory where people on the grounds stopped what they were doing to watch the convoy move past. Gary watched in his mirrors to see if anyone came out and attempted to pursue them. He had no reason in particular to think that they might, but he wasn’t taking any chances. Any moving vehicle with fuel, any truck that might be carrying food or supplies, could be targeted.

  “Alice?” Gary said into his radio. “Anyone pull onto the road behind you?”

  “Nope,” she replied. “Highway is clear behind me.”

  “Perfect,” Gary said. “Everyone keep your eyes open. Let me know if you see anything concerning.”

  They crossed the county line, leaving Tazewell County behind and entering Russell County. They passed through a community known as Belfast, seeing houses at a distance but no one out moving around. The kept their vehicles at the appointed speed, continuing to the open pastures of the Rosedale area. Gary picked up his radio.

  “Jim said we might hit a police roadblock at the intersection up here where the traffic light is,” Gary said. “I don’t expect any trouble, but we need to be ready for anything. Even if it’s manned by cops, that doesn’t mean there won’t be trouble. Once we get past this intersection, it’s another fifteen minutes or so to Jim’s place.”

  As they approached the non-functioning traffic light, Will slowed. “I can see some kind of obstruction up there,” Will said into his radio.

  “I see it,” Gary said. “Looks like a MRAP or something. Slow it down a little.” An MRAP was a military surplus Mine-Resistant Ambush Protected vehicle. A lot of law enforcement agencies had been obtaining them since the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan had been slowing down.

  “Whatever is going on here, we’ve got no choice but to go through this intersection,” Gary said. “Drive slowly, all of you keep your hands on your steering wheels and in sight. If there’s a cop there, don’t give him any reason to shoot you. We’ll just have to play this one by ear. If we’re cool, he should be cool.”

  Gary didn’t know if the pep talk was for his family or himself. He didn’t feel like he had anything to hide, but he still felt uneasy. Just being on the road again, being away from home, brought back all of the anxiety of his journey home with Jim.

  Approaching closer, he could definitely see that there was an MRAP sitting beside the intersection. There were concrete Jersey barriers placed through the intersection to slow and funnel traffic through a narrow choke point. They didn’t block the intersection completely, only forced drivers to slow down and go through single-file. From the impact craters on the concrete barriers, it was evident that not everyone had seen fit to comply with the request to stop. There were several four-foot long sections of concrete culvert placed on end behind the Jersey barriers.

  Gary tried to understand what the upended culverts were for. He figured it out pretty quickly when a helmeted figure popped up out of the culvert and leveled an Israeli Tavor rifle at his group.

  “Easy everyone,” Gary said into his radio. “I’m going to handle this. Everybod
y stay cool.”

  Gary got out of his truck, raised his hands over his head, and stepped to the front of the vehicle. The figure in helmet and goggles followed him with the rifle. Gary couldn’t help but admire the culvert idea. All the man had to do was duck back down and he was surrounded by a barrier that would stop most small arms fire. It was like a rodeo clown ducking into a barrel to hide from the bull. He would have to get a couple of those.

  “Are you Travis?” Gary asked.

  “Who’s asking?” the man replied.

  “My name is Gary Sullivan. My family is in these vehicles.”

  “Sullivan,” Travis said, thinking. “There was a Sullivan working at the county offices. Any relation?”

  “No, I don’t have any family over this way,” Gary said. “So you are Travis?”

  “Why would you think my name is Travis?” the man asked. “I don’t know you.”

  “My friend Jim Powell lives about fifteen minutes from here,” Gary explained. “He and I just walked back from Richmond together a few days ago. My family and I have had some trouble at home and Jim offered us a place to stay until things get back to normal.”

  The man hopped out of the culvert and approached the convoy of vehicles. Gary could see now that the man had a Virginia State Police patch on the sleeve of his shirt.

  “Tell everyone to keep their hands visible,” he instructed.

  “Already did,” Gary said.

  “We’re off to a good start then. Are you armed?”

  “Of course. Everyone, including me, is carrying a concealed weapon and they have permits to do so,” Gary said. “Is that a problem?”

  “Not as long as they keep their hands clear of those weapons,” the Trooper replied.

  “So you are Travis, right?” Gary asked yet again.