“You got it.” She all but ran to the rear of the drug store and hopped the counter. He watched her run her finger along numerous bottles before she hopped up. “Can you tolerate Percocet?”
Simon shrugged. “As far as I know.”
“Great.” She picked up the bottle and slid back over the counter. “Your prescription is ready, sir.”
Simon stared at the bottle in her hand. “Do me a favor, will ya?”
“Anything.” She looked at him hopefully.
“Hold on to those for me.” He looked up at her and she recognized the expression. “I have a thing about pills.” He swallowed again and gave her a sheepish grin. “That and liquor.”
“You want me to meter them out to you as you need them?”
He nodded. “If you don’t mind.”
She hooked her arm through his arm and pulled him around toward the door of the store. “Might as well. I’ve been your nurse and your doctor. I guess I can be your pharmacist, too.”
He grinned at her. “My drug dealer.”
She hiked a brow at his playful banter. “Ooh, I can sell them to you at outrageous prices.”
He shook his head. “Sorry, sweetheart. I’m fresh out of money.” He hiked a brow at her. “Maybe we can barter for them? Feel like taking it out in trade?”
She laughed again then pointed across the street. “There’s an ATM right there, buster.”
He gave her a defeated look. “I lost my card?” She shook her head. “There’s no electricity?” She shook her head again. He growled low in his throat. “Money is worthless these days?”
She narrowed her gaze at him. “Fine. I’ll trade you for them.”
“What would you like?” He asked, his mind thinking of jewelry and furs. “A big house? A fancy car?”
She smiled at him and gave him her best sultry stare. “Toilet paper.”
16
Trevor parked the RV and turned in his seat. “How’s this?”
Patricia slid from her seat and walked up between Trevor and Donna. She stared through the windshield and slowly nodded. “It’s safe to return now.”
Trevor stared at her open mouthed. “What…what did you just say?”
She turned and smiled at him. “It’s safe to return now. They’re gone.”
“Who is, sweetie?” Donna asked.
“The others.” Her face went slack. “Like me.”
“Patricia, honey, they are nothing like you.” Trevor reached out and pulled her close, being careful to keep her skin out of the sun. “You are sweet and smart and caring and…” He choked up on his own words. “You wouldn’t hurt a fly.”
Patricia reached up and brushed his cheek. “I’m not Patricia.” There was a sadness in her eyes and Trevor stiffened, afraid that her memories had returned.
“What do you mean?” He really didn’t want to ask.
“My name isn’t Patricia.” She gave him a soft smile. “It’s Brandy.”
“That’s a lovely name,” Donna cooed.
Trevor let her go and she stepped back, still smiling at him. “You remember, don’t you?”
She shrugged, her smile unfading. “Some.”
Trevor had to fight back tears as his mind tried to tiptoe through the minefield of his little girl’s life. “And you’re okay with me…being…” He choked up again.
Brandy stepped closer and wrapped her tiny arms around his neck. “You’re my daddy now.”
Trevor felt something warm and wet running down his cheeks and it took him a moment to realize that he was crying. He felt Donna place a steady hand on his shoulder and when he cracked his eyes open, she was crying as well.
He pulled back from her and wiped at his face, trying his best to sniff back the tears. “You know I love you, right, Punkin?”
She nodded and reached up to wipe at his eyes. “It’s going to be okay now.”
Donna slid sideways in the passenger seat and took Brandy’s hand. “What did you mean it was safe to go back?”
She shook her head slightly. “I can’t explain it.” She took a deep breath, her child-mind trying to put into words what she was feeling. “It’s not that I can see what they are doing.” She continued to shake her head. “And I can’t think what they think.” Trevor stared at her, confused. “I can feel what they feel.”
“You can feel what others like you feel?” Donna asked.
“Sometimes.”
“Like the mad guy with the pipe?”
“He wasn’t mad.” She turned and gave him a blank stare. “He was in pain. And scared.”
“Who is she talking about?” Donna asked. Trevor gave her a look she couldn’t read.
“The leader of the Ragers. He carried a piece of pipe with him. He was going to beat me to death but Patricia stepped—”
“Brandy, daddy.”
He gave her a surprised look then smiled. “That’s right. Brandy here stepped between us. She challenged him to protect me.”
Donna stared at the little girl with wide eyes. “You challenged a grown man with a weapon?”
“He was in pain. And he was really scared.”
Trevor interrupted. “She stepped between us and she defended me.” He turned to Donna and gave her a proud smile. “It was the first time that she called me daddy. The first word she spoke since I found her.”
Brandy nodded and slid over to sit on his knee. “He was my new daddy. I had to protect him.”
Donna fought back the flood of emotions she was feeling. “But you say it’s safe to go back now?”
“They’re not scared now.” She looked to Trevor. “The pain is going away.”
“The cure?” He wiped at his eyes again. “Is that why you’re such a little chatterbox now?”
She shrugged. “My head doesn’t hurt as bad now.”
Donna gave him a broad smile. “The cure works.”
“Thank god,” Trevor sighed as he leaned back in his seat. He turned to stare at Brandy. “And you want to go back now?”
She peered through the windshield for a moment then smiled. “Yes please.” She slipped off of his lap and pointed. “The kids are that way.”
Trevor nodded enthusiastically. “Well then, let’s not keep them waiting.” He put the RV in drive again and turned back toward the compound.
Buck pulled into the driveway of the desert-tan house. He noticed right away that the door was navy blue. “I guess this is the place you were thinking of, isn’t it?” He put the truck in park and killed the engine.
Nick sat in the passenger seat and stared at the house that he’d called home for nearly three decades. He slowly shook his head. “I don’t think I can do this.”
Hatcher leaned forward and spoke softly. “What’s wrong?”
Nick sniffed back unshed tears and stared at the front door. “I’m pretty sure my wife is in there.”
“I thought you said your wife didn’t make it?” Buck asked, not putting the two things together.
Nick slowly nodded. “She didn’t.” He swallowed hard and turned his face away.
Hatcher laid a hand on Nick’s shoulder. “Want me to go in and get you a change of clothes? We can take you back to our place, get you a hot shower and a good meal.”
Buck nodded. “You don’t have to stay here.”
Nick fought the urge to break down. He choked back a sob then reached for the door handle. “This was my home for thirty years.” He opened the door and stepped out on shaky legs. “I’m not going any place new.”
Hatcher jumped out of the back seat and met him halfway to the door. “If you want, I can go in first.” He searched the old man’s face. “If she’s in there, I can…” He glanced at Buck. “I don’t know. Cover her body with a blanket or something.”
Nick nodded slowly. “I’d appreciate that.” He looked over Hatcher’s shoulder to the front door. “Check in the kitchen.”
“Wait here with him.” Hatcher turned and went to the front door. He checked the handle and the door pushed ope
n with ease. He glanced over his shoulder at the two men before slipping inside.
Just as Nick had said, there were remains in the kitchen. And in the dining room. And perhaps some in the living room. He swallowed hard as he searched the house. He found a spare room and stripped the sheets and blankets from the mattress. He went room by room, covering the desiccated remains.
He thought about opening the shades to allow light in but fought the urge. Nick didn’t need to see any more than he had to.
He reappeared at the door. “Just gather some things from your bedroom. Probably best we take you to our place for the time being.”
Nick squared his shoulders and stepped over the threshold. As soon as he entered the house, a flood of memories hit him like a brick.
He felt his legs go weak and he steadied himself in the foyer. “I got ya, Nick.” Buck said as he gripped the old man’s arms. “Which way?”
Nick waved him off. “I’m okay.” He stood erect and cleared his throat. “I just…remember.” He glanced to Hatcher and gave him a melancholy smile. “A lot of good memories in this old house.”
The two watched him stagger back to the left and along the hallway that led to the bedrooms. Hatcher looked to Buck. “There’s going to be a lot of people just like him out there.”
Buck gave him a surprised look. “I didn’t even think about the others.” He blew his breath out hard. “What can we do about them?”
Hatcher shrugged. “I honestly don’t know.” He leaned against the hallway wall and gave Buck a sad look. “Help the ones we can?”
The pair could hear drawers open and close and a door closed hard. Hatcher looked to Buck then called down the hallway, “You okay, Nick?”
“Just gathering my things. If you’ll give me a moment, I’ll be dressed and you can give your friend his shirt back.” He sounded like a different person. “Damned thing makes a lousy loincloth.”
Hatcher chuckled and leaned back on the wall. “We’ll take him back to our place, get him settled in and—”
His words were cut off by a single gunshot.
Hatcher jumped and ran down the hallway. He threw open the door and staggered to a stop.
Nick lay on his bed, fully dressed in his own clothes and clutching a photo of Doris, the .38 caliber revolver still gripped in his hand.
“Okay, now touch that wire to the other one you stripped.” Simon watched as Lana attempted to hotwire an old Toyota. She tapped the two wires together and the starter tried to engage.
“Again. Press them together.”
“Ow!” She jerked her hand back, sticking her finger in her mouth. “That hurts.”
Simon gave her an apologetic look. “I’m sorry, baby. I should have warned you. Yeah, it will shock you, but it only lasts a moment.” He reached across and fumbled with the wires himself.
“Let’s just keep searching until we find one with keys,” she pleaded.
He stared into her eyes. “What if you need to know how to do this one day?”
“Then I’ll wing it.” She held her scorched fingertip up to him. “Or I’ll walk.”
Simon hung his head. “Okay. We keep searching.”
She slipped out from behind the wheel of the car and kicked the door shut. “If we were going to steal a car, why an old crap wagon like that?”
“Older cars are easier to start without a key.”
“How’s that?”
“No computer.” He nodded toward an old pickup. “Something like that you can probably start by jamming a screwdriver into the ignition and twisting.”
She stopped walking and gave him a hateful stare. “And you had me electrocute myself trying to hotwire a turd like that?”
He held his good hand up in surrender. “It was supposed to be a learning experience.”
“I’ll give you a learning experience.” She shook her fist at him and he ducked like a boxer.
“Easy now. I have a thick skull. I wouldn’t want you to break something.”
“Like your jaw?” She narrowed her eyes at him. “Find me a screwdriver.”
He laughed as he opened the passenger door of the old truck. “Son of a bitch.” He pointed to the dash. “Keys are in it.”
“Yeah, that settles it. I’m beating you to death in your sleep.” She opened the door and slid behind the wheel. Nothing happened when she turned the key. “Great. Dead battery.”
Simon groaned and glanced at the road. “It goes downhill that way. We could push-start it.”
Lana gave him a dumbfounded look. “Push it?”
“To start it. You know, get it rolling, pop the clutch, let the momentum turn the engine over until it starts.”
She shook her head at him. “Clutch?”
Simon laughed and shut the door. “You can’t drive a standard?”
“Is that the kind with a clutch?” She shut the door and looked down the street for another possible ride. “I can barely walk and chew bubblegum at the same time.”
Simon could feel his forehead pop into a cold sweat and he leaned against the bed of the truck. “I should have eaten something before I took those pain pills.”
Lana pointed across the street. “Convenience store. Come with me. We’ll get something in you.”
Simon followed her and felt his legs grow weaker as he stepped up onto the sidewalk. She pushed the door open and rummaged through the mess, coming up with a bag of chips and something in cellophane that might have been a bran muffin at some point in its existence.
Simon pressed the chip bag against the counter until it popped open then shoved some of the salty crumbs into his mouth. He chewed absently, his eyes searching the gloom for something wet to wash it down with.
Lana appeared a moment later with a warm soda in her hand. She popped the top and handed it to him as it foamed over the edge and across his hand. He quickly washed down the chips then gave her a wide eyed look.
“Was it bad?”
He spun and spewed across the floor, retching as the pain pills got their revenge.
He gripped the side of the counter as his stomach emptied itself. He forced himself to stand up straight and regretted it as his stomach heaved again.
Lana rubbed at his back as he threw up everything he’d ever eaten since grade school. “If you had long hair, I’d hold it out of your face for you.”
He spat the bile from his mouth and leaned against the counter. “I appreciate the thought.”
She reached up and ran a hand through his short cropped hair. “How come you didn’t go bald?”
Simon shrugged. “Maybe I wasn’t Quee long enough?” He reached for the soda can and rinsed his mouth out, spitting it out before taking a long drink.
“Better?”
“Now that I’ve barfed? Yeah. Actually I do feel better.”
“Let’s get you something to eat. You’ll need another dose of pain killers pretty soon.”
The pair rummaged through the scattered remains and was able to make a meal of corn chips, stale cookies and warm soda. “Everything a growing boy needs,” she said as she made a toast with a Fresca.
Simon stuck with the real stuff. RC Cola worked just fine for him. He even joked about needing a MoonPie.
The pair sat in the floor of the convenience store, leaning against the counter. Lana gave him a sidelong glance. “Where do we go from here?”
Simon chewed a cookie while he considered their options. “I was thinking if we could find a ride, I know a place, up on a hill…there’s food and water there.” He gave her a knowing look. “And plenty of booze, but you can dump it if you want.” He took a drink of the soda to wash everything down. “We can hole up there for a while. Get our bearings. Then we can decide what we want to do.” He popped another corn chip into his mouth and gave her a grin. “If you want, we can stay there and lay low from the cagers indefinitely. Or we can hunt for a nice ride and beat it out of here.”
She watched him eat for a moment then reiterated. “I meant, were do we go from here?
”
Simon stopped chewing and gave her a blank stare. “I was hoping we’d stick together.” He swallowed hard and studied her. “I mean, if you want to split, I understand.” He averted his gaze and lowered his voice. “I’m sure you could do a lot better than a worn out old biker like me.”
She took him by the hand and kissed his knuckles. “You barely know me.”
He looked into her eyes and sighed. “I know enough.”
17
Hatcher sat quietly on the sofa and continued to stare into the shadows. Buck sat in the recliner across from him, unsure what to say or do.
“Why would he do that?”
Hatcher shook his head. “If he felt responsible for Doris…” He sighed heavily. “She was his wife.”
Buck thought of Skeeter. If he’d been responsible for her being hurt or worse…killed? He’d never be able to live with himself, either. He looked up at Hatcher. “Everybody who snaps out of this will have some kind of guilt.” He came to his feet, a nervous energy taking over. “All of the Zulus have had to kill to survive. They’ll all have guilt issues, coping…” He trailed off.
Hatcher looked up at him. “What can we do though? We don’t know where the grand majority of them even are.” He came to his feet, his hand rubbing at his neck. “Even if we could find them, what can you or I do?”
Buck felt his hands tremble as he spoke. “We barely knew him, Hatch. But I felt like we knew him, ya know?”
Hatcher nodded. “I know.” He turned slowly and walked toward the door. “We need to go back.”
“What about Nick? Are we just going to leave him there?”
Hatcher turned and stared down the hallway. “He’s in his bed.” He turned and looked at Buck blankly. “It’s where he chose.”
“We should bury him, Hatch.”
Hatcher considered it for a moment then slowly shook his head. “There’s not enough daylight.” He nodded toward the door. “We need to get back.”
Buck sighed and fell into step with him. “Is this the fate of all of the Zulus? They find a cure just so that they all kill themselves for what they might have done?”
Caldera 9: From The Ashes Page 10