Dead Highways: Origins

by Richard Brown

  Robinson gave me his dorky thumbs-up and then backed out.

  Those of us left behind, the Buick six, headed into the bookstore.

  The first thing that hit me was the smell. Paper books collecting dust. Such a beautiful scent, I wanted to cry. So many memories. So many lives lived in those books.

  I went behind the counter. How many times had I stood there and checked someone out? Probably at least once or twice a day. My grandma’s chair was by the window, with its ugly flower pattern cushion. On a shelf across from her chair was the little nine inch black and white TV that she’d watch soap operas on. God, how I hated the tinny, high-pitched sound that TV made. God, how I would give anything to see her sitting in that ugly chair again watching it.

  I showed the others upstairs to my humble home. Everyone took turns using the bathroom except Olivia. She had just left something nasty in a diaper a few miles south.

  I rummaged through my clothes and picked out something to wear. No more khaki pants and polo shirt. Those would be going in the trash. I decided on a black T-shirt, so the blood wouldn’t be as noticeable, if, God forbid, I got rained on again. For pants, I went with dark blue jeans. Not skinny jeans, however. I saw no reason to accentuate my stork legs. I even changed my shoes, putting on the best pair of running shoes I had. Yeah, I expected to be doing a lot of running.

  When I came out of the bathroom, Peaches was sitting on my bed feeding Olivia. Naima and Luna sat on opposite sides of her. Diego was in my computer chair, his bad leg stretched out in front of him.

  “How is it?”

  “Let’s just say, I’m not looking forward to going back down those stairs,” Diego replied.

  “You could have stayed down there. Waited for us.”

  “I had to take a piss, like everyone else. Plus I really need to get around and move it, ya know? The more I sit still, the more it starts to cramp up.”

  “I probably have some ibuprofen around here. Let me check.” I found a bottle in the bathroom. I came back into my bedroom and tossed it to Diego. “Oh, you need water too.”

  “No, no. I’m okay. I’ll just swallow it dry.”

  “Aamod’s gonna get us some drinks if you can wait a few more minutes. We’ll go over there soon. I just want to get some more things for the road.”

  “Really, I’m fine.” He took three pills out of the bottle and popped them into his mouth. “See. No problem.”

  “Ya know, you guys are welcome to take whatever you want,” I said. “I know I don’t have much, but still, if you see something. Feel free.”

  “I’ll keep this,” Diego said, holding up the bottle of ibuprofen.

  “Absolutely. I don’t know if you’d fit into any of my clothes, but you can try if you want. As long as you don’t mind looking like a nerd.”

  I looked down at my Harry Potter T-shirt I’d bought from Universal Studios Orlando last year. My grandma had taken me, and we’d had a good time spending the day with each other, even though she didn’t ride any of the rides.

  I finished stuffing a duffle bag full of extra clothes, shirts, another pair of pants, underwear, a second pair of shoes, and of course, a few more books from the shop downstairs, and then headed back into the bedroom. Diego and Luna were revealing more details about how they met, and more importantly, why they decided to get married.

  “He would flirt with me every day,” Luna said. “Little things, like leaving cute notes on my desk.”

  Diego grinned. “I would look for any excuse I could to leave the shop, just so I could get another glimpse of her.”

  “The guys were probably wondering where you went all the time.”

  “No, they knew,” Diego said, still grinning.

  “They did?”

  “Yeah, they knew I liked you long before you did.”

  “I thought you were just playing around. As far as I knew, you could have had a wife at home.”

  “So how did he finally ask you out?” Peaches asked.

  “He didn’t,” Luna said. Now she was the one grinning. “I had to ask him out.”

  Peaches shook her head. “Isn’t that the way it is these days. Men got no problem flirting, but when it comes to sealing the deal. Nope. Too damn scared.”

  I waited for Peaches to tell them about her professional experience asking men out, for a price. But she never went there. She probably wanted to forget about that part of her life, leave it in the dustbin of history, and so did I.

  “I wasn’t scared,” Diego said. “Okay, maybe I was a little. But look at her, she’s so gorgeous.”

  “Thanks, babe.”

  “You two make a cute couple,” Naima said.

  My turn. “But I bet this wasn’t the honeymoon you guys were expecting.”

  “No, not really,” Diego said. “We didn’t have much planned, just some nice alone time together. Maybe drive out to the gulf coast and rent a little villa on the water.”

  “If nothing else, at least we’d be away from work for a week,” Luna added.

  I laughed. “Well, I think you’ll be away from work for more than a week.”

  “It’s too bad all of this had to go down before you got married,” Peaches said.

  “We got our rings, at least.” Luna bowed her head, spun her diamond ring around her finger. After a moment, she looked up at Diego and said, “I think we should tell them now.”

  Diego sat up. “You sure?”

  “Yeah. It’s okay. They should know.”

  “Know what?” Peaches asked.

  Luna took a deep breath. “I’m two months pregnant.”

  “Really?” Peaches said. “I would have never known.”

  “Yeah, I haven’t got the baby belly yet.”

  “It’ll be right around the corner in no time.”

  “Is Diego the father?” I asked jokingly.

  Luna smiled. “Of course he’s the father.”

  “If I’m not, I doubt we’ll be getting a DNA test to find out now,” Diego said.

  In my head, I heard Maury Povich saying, Diego . . . you are the father.

  And the crowd cheers!

  “That’s why we decided to get married so soon, ya know,” Luna said.

  “Do you know if it’s a boy or a girl?” Naima asked.

  “It’s a boy,” Diego replied.

  Luna crooked her head at him. “Shut up. We don’t know the sex yet. He wants a boy. I’ll be happy either way.”

  “It’s a boy,” Diego said again.

  “Well, if you want practice being a mommy,” Peaches said. “Olivia won’t mind.”

  Luna looked down at the baby sleeping on the bed between them. “She’s beautiful.”

  Peaches nodded.

  “We should probably get going,” I said. “It’s been like . . .” I looked at my watch. “Like fifteen minutes since Robinson took off for the gun store. And Naima, we don’t want to keep your dad waiting.”

  “No, you definitely don’t,” she replied.

  We loaded back into the car, my duffle bag in the trunk, and drove across the street to the convenience store. There were even less infected people than earlier, crossing the road, heading west. I slowed down as I passed the military humvee still sitting in the middle of the street. The three soldiers who had once occupied it were now gone.

  Aamod came outside as we pulled up. “What took you so long? Come help with this stuff.”

  He had a little bit of everything piled by the door. Cases of junk food. Twelve packs of soda. Twenty-four packs of water. As well as other essentials like lighters, road maps, foam coolers, motor oil, and batteries of various sizes, all shoved into plastic bags.

  “What . . . no beef jerky?” I said.

  Aamod ignored me. I had a feeling he was still pissed about the whole Jerry thing.

  Douche.

  Peaches stepped up into the firing line. “Hey, do you think I can get a carton or two of cigarettes?”

  “Yes, go ahead.”

  “Cool, thanks.”
<
br />   Yeah. Definitely still pissed at me.

  While Peaches went behind the counter to get the cigarettes, the rest of us, minus Mr. Cripple in the backseat, loaded the stuff Aamod had neatly stacked into the trunk of the car.

  When we finished, I said, “Anything else?”

  Aamod walked back into the store and came out a moment later with his shotgun.

  Chapter 34

  Guns Unlimited.

  We parked next to Robinson’s squad car. He had left the windows slightly open so Jax wouldn’t die of heat exhaustion in the back seat.

  “You staying in the car, Diego? I could leave the air on.”

  “No, I better get up and walk around again. Plus I don’t want you picking out my piece.”

  “So you’re saying you didn’t want me to get you a pink Saturday night special?”

  The windows had bars on them, but the door had no such safety apparatus. It was open, and by the look of the bent and busted doorframe, had probably been kicked open.

  Oh, Robinson, what have you done?

  I stepped inside, surprised not only that Robinson and Bowser weren’t there, but that practically nothing was on the shelves. On a normal day, there would be rifles and shotguns hung on every wall, while handguns, scopes, and other accessories would be inside one of the glass display cases. Today, however, there wasn’t one single gun on the wall, and the glass cases had been smashed to pieces, their contents totally cleaned out.

  “Oh man,” I said, stopping in the center of the store. Glass cracked under my shoes. “This place has already been hit.”

  The others cautiously came up beside me.

  “Where’s Robinson?” Peaches asked, holding Olivia.

  I shrugged. “I don’t know. He should be here. Wait a minute.”

  I went behind the counter and slowly walked through the dark, windowless storage room. Nobody was back there. Likewise, the shelves were as empty as the rest of the building. Whoever had come here must have brought a couple of full-sized vans and backed them right up to the door. I came to a small desk in the corner with various forms and receipts scattered across the surface. I flipped through them but saw nothing of interest.

  “What’s through here?” Peaches asked, as I came out of the storage room. She was standing by the door to the gun range, where on occasion I had played with Sally until she got too hot to handle.

  Everyone followed me into the range except Diego, who had already tired of walking, and leaned lazily against one of the empty shelves. Aamod, on the other hand, held his shotgun waist-high and was ready to fire at the first mouse that scampered across the floor.

  The range was darker and colder than the storage room, and the smell of gunpowder was stronger than I remembered. Past the six shooting stations was a final door that I assumed led outside, but it wouldn’t open. It was key-locked.

  I suddenly got a chill that sucked the very air out of my lungs. Standing in the large, dark room, my imagination began playing tricks on me, and the walls felt like they were closing in. Claustrophobia, and the fear of being trapped in the dark, was enough to make me run for the open door.

  Pronto.

  Then a gunshot rang out.

  The concrete block muffled much of the sound, though the echo in the hollow chamber seemed to hit us from all directions at once.

  Everyone stopped in the dark, stopped going for the door. I pulled Sally out and flicked off the safety.

  “Was that a gun going off?” Naima asked.

  “Yes, Naima,” Aamod answered.

  “Diego,” I called out. “Is everything okay out there?”

  No response.

  Holy motherfucking shit!

  No way I was just gonna run out into a trap. I pictured someone kneeling down behind Robinson’s car, the barrel of their rifle resting on the trunk, waiting to pick us off as we came through the doorway.

  Then another gunshot rang out.

  And another.

  “Diego!” This time I yelled as loudly as I could. “If you’re alive, say something!”

  Aamod was creeping up to the door, getting ready to peek around the corner and probably get a bullet in the head, when Diego finally responded.

  “Yes. Come here now!”

  We rushed out of the range and back into the gun shop. Diego was by the front door, cautiously peering out.

  “Who’s shooting at us?” I asked.

  “No one. Look.”

  We all gathered behind Diego and looked outside. Two black men lay in the road right behind the Buick, not moving, bleeding from their heads. My first thought was the worst thought—that the two dead black men in the road were Robinson and Bowser—but on further inspection, I could see that wasn’t the case. The two in the road were dressed in brightly colored clothing, and both were much younger and thinner than my friends.

  Far off to the left, a bullet penetrated a parked car sitting in front of a body shop across the street. Somebody was hiding behind the car, the top of their head barely visible.

  “You see that? Somebody’s behind that car.”

  “And over there,” Aamod said, pointing to the right, where a different person was sneaking a glance around the corner of the red-bricked wall of a local bank.

  Seconds later, a bullet took off a chunk of the wall, sending shattered pieces of brick exploding to the ground. The figure just missed being hit, and then disappeared back behind the building.

  A third person, a woman with long brown hair, appeared directly center of us, between the two buildings. She looked around for a moment, and then began to back up the way she came. Then she stopped, her eyes like lasers focused on us.

  Two consecutive shots hit the parked car again, one blew out a tire.

  The young woman was still staring at us, or at least appeared to be.

  “What is she doing?” Naima asked.

  “She’s infected,” I said. “She probably doesn’t know what she’s doing.”

  “Looks like she’s looking right at us,” Luna said.

  “Who is shooting at them?” I asked.

  “Kind of sounds like it’s coming from . . .” Peaches started to look around the building, and then up at the ceiling.

  “From where?” Diego inquired.

  “From up on the roof, maybe. I don’t know.”

  “Hmm,” I mumbled. “You may be right.”

  “I think she is,” Aamod said. “I will go check.”

  “Are you sure?” I asked.

  Aamod again ignored me and slowly stepped outside, shotgun ready. As he made it to Robinson’s squad car, he turned around and pointed the shotgun up at the roof of the building.

  Nobody made a sound. I think we all held our breath, hoping Aamod didn’t end up with a bullet between his eyes.

  Then his facial expression changed from dead serious to—

  Relief?

  He lowered the shotgun to his side, and said, “What are you doing up there?” He waved us to come outside.

  Robinson and Bowser were standing on the roof of the gun shop, smiles as wide as the sun. Next to them was a man with an unforgettable face. In his hands was a long range, bolt-action rifle.

  The owner of Guns Unlimited.

  Ted.

  “Come around, y’all,” he said.

  We walked around the building to the back entrance. An old green Jeep with a removable top was parked alongside a chain-linked fence that separated the commercial property from residential. Tall trees on the other side of the fence shaded much of the back lot from the harsh morning sun.

  Bowser was already down from the roof when we rounded the corner, having climbed down an iron ladder connected to the building, just to the right of the back door—the locked one that led into the range. Robinson was next to climb down, then Ted.

  “Hell, I thought you looked familiar,” Ted said.

  “It’s me,” I said, shaking his hand.

  I still couldn’t believe how many freckles Ted had. Freckles on top of freckles.
It was unreal.

  “Robinson told me your name and that you bought a gun from me, but not much else. I said I’d probably remember you if I saw your face. And lo and behold, I was right. I’ll never forget the first time you walked into the store. So unassuming. It’s good to see you haven’t killed yourself. You should really get a holster for that, though . . . don’t want to shoot your pecker off.”

  I nodded. “That’s why we came here. But by the looks of it there’s nothing left.”

  “Yeah, I got cleaned out in a matter of hours. The looters went mad. I left for a short time, and when I came back, it was all gone. Tell you what, this isn’t the business you want to be in when everything falls apart. But I’m just glad to be alive . . . or I should say, glad to not be like the rest of them.”

  “The looters didn’t touch the bookstore,” I said.

  “No, why would they?” Ted said, smiling. “Who are your friends here?”

  I introduced everyone, and then turned to Robinson.

  “Did you see us when we pulled in?”

  “Yeah, we saw you.”

  “How come you didn’t say anything?”

  Bowser grinned. “Thought we’d have a little fun with you.”

  “It wasn’t funny,” Aamod said.

  For once, I agreed with him.

  “We were keeping lookout,” Robinson said. “No safer place to sit and wait for you than up on the roof.”

  “Still, I heard the gunshots and thought somebody was shooting at us.”

  “Sorry. A couple of crazies ran up fast . . . wanted to follow you in. So Ted had to take them down.”

  “Is that your Jeep?” Peaches asked Ted.

  “Yep, that’s mine.”

  “I used to have one just like it years ago.”

  Suddenly, Jax started barking.

  We hurried back toward the front of the building. Halfway there, Ted stopped and raised his rifle. A man was putting his arms through the partially open back window of Robinson’s squad car, trying to grab Jax. A moment later, he was face up on the pavement, dead.

  Ted racked the bolt and looked around for other infected. Seeing none in the immediate vicinity, he lowered the rifle.

  “Have you been here all morning?” I asked.

  “Most of it,” Ted replied. “I came back here to retrieve some personal items I had left in my desk. Then as I was about to leave, I saw someone getting attacked across the street by two men and a woman. So I yelled at the attackers to stop, but then ended up running for my life.”