by Sam Sisavath
Keo sighed and jogged across the street toward the motel.
It was an ugly building, designed in an N-shape with an open parking lot in the middle. There were ten rooms on one side, five more in the back, and five more to his left, with the manager’s office twice as big as the individual rooms. Unlike most of the businesses Keo had walked past, there were only a couple of cars inside the lot, all of them with dirt-caked windows and grimy bodies. The only vehicle that looked in any shape to still drive was the white Ford F-150 parked near the center, where the man who had called Keo over was walking toward now.
Keo casually reached down and flicked the fire selector on the submachine gun to semiautomatic just as he reached the parking lot. He kept his hand draped over the weapon in an almost lazy manner, nothing that would indicate dangerous intentions.
The redhead had walked over to the parked Ford and leaned into the open front passenger-side door. He was reaching for something inside, but Keo only had eyes for the M240 mounted in the back of the vehicle. The M240 was an older model machine gun, but it was still fully capable of slicing him in half in the blink of an eye. Fortunately, there was no one manning it at the moment, which was the only reason Keo didn’t turn and run.
“What’s going on?” Keo said as he got closer.
The Bucky came out of the open door with a bottle of water and took a sip. He had a receding hairline, which looked odd against his almost glowing red goatee. He sighed with relief when he was done. “What’s your name?”
“Jay,” Keo said.
“You’re one of Fenton’s guys?”
Keo nodded and thought, I am now, before saying, “Yeah. What’s up?”
“I thought all of Fenton’s guys were supposed to be gone by now?”
“Supposed to, but Buck’s got me running around in the woods just in case there were some strays from Winding Creek.”
“Whatever,” the man said, and finished the last drop of water before tossing the bottle into the truck bed. “Give me a hand with this.”
“With what?”
“Just follow me.”
Keo fell in behind him. “I didn’t catch your name.”
“Wagner,” the man said.
“Where is everyone, Wagner?”
“They went to grab a bite. Why did you think I called you over?”
So you’re all alone, huh? Good to know, good to know.
Keo followed Wagner to the motel rooms on the right. All the doors looked identical, but Wagner led him to the one marked 15. The curtains were drawn, and there were fresh drops of blood on the ground connecting Room 15 with the Ford behind them. Someone hadn’t gone inside willingly.
“How many did you get back in Winding Creek?” Wagner was asking him.
“How many did I get what?” Keo said.
Wagner stopped and looked back at him. “How many did you kill?”
Keo recovered and answered as quickly and confidently as he could manage, “I wasn’t really keeping score. Why?”
“I thought you Fenton boys were hardcore killers,” Wagner said, grinning at him. That was either an inside joke at Keo’s expense or…something else.
Keo shrugged indifferently. “Not all of us.”
“That’s not what I heard.”
“You heard wrong.”
“Maybe,” Wagner said, and turned around and continued to Room 15. “Let’s see how you would solve this problem of mine. Do a good job, and I’ll put a word in for you with Buck. We’re always looking for guys to be a permanent member of the team.”
“I’d appreciate it,” Keo said, even though he didn’t have a clue what Wagner was talking about.
Wagner opened the door and stepped inside Room 15, and Keo followed.
It wasn’t nearly as bad as he was anticipating, but it wasn’t very good, either. It was far from anything even remotely approaching “good,” in fact.
There were two of them, and one was either dead or on his way there. Keo had never seen either man before. Their wrists and ankles were bound with duct tape, but that had little to do with why one of the men was lying awkwardly on his side, blood dribbling from his mouth and broken nose, and down to the dust-laden carpet.
The other one looked to be in a better spot, though not by very much. His face was black and purple, his right eye so big Keo thought he was wearing sunglasses with only one lens when he first saw the man. His nose was broken, and blood trickled out of it and into his mouth, not that he seemed to notice. He had dark black hair, but the most curious thing about him—and his partner nearby—was that they were dressed almost identical to Keo and Wagner: cargo pants, civilian shirts, and black assault vests with the circled M emblems. They were also wearing gun belts, but the holsters were empty.
Wagner had walked over to the full-size bed where he picked up a white blanket to wipe his hands. Keo hadn’t seen it before, but he had blood on his fingers and knuckles, though he was probably getting his hands dirtier considering the filthy state of the blanket he was using. Keo decided to keep that to himself.
“Who are they?” he asked instead.
“The half-dead one’s Vince, the not-quite-dead one’s Lewis,” Wagner said. “You know about the missing people?”
What missing people? Keo thought, but shook his head and said, “I was kinda busy doing something else. What happened?”
“The numbers didn’t add up. There’s about twenty missing heads from Winding Creek.” The redhead tossed the blanket on the floor and put his hands on his hips before staring at Vince and Lewis. “We think these two managed to sneak the ones in the subdivision out of the south end of town during the attack.”
Keo looked back at the two men. If they could hear the conversation, neither showed any obvious signs. Especially Vince, who looked practically dead—if he wasn’t actually dead. Lewis looked in remarkably better shape by comparison.
“Why would they do that?” Keo asked.
“They’re from Winding Creek,” Wagner said. “Used to be, anyway. Of course, we didn’t know that until this morning when someone spotted Vince there with a couple of women and kids that later went missing. Then, when asked about it, he denied it.” Wagner walked over and crouched in front of Lewis. “This one put up quite a fight.”
“You did all this?” Keo asked.
“Nah, just this one,” Wagner said, nodding at Vince. “Some of it, anyway. The others took their shots before they went to get something to eat. I wasn’t very hungry.”
Not for food, from the looks of it.
Wagner stood back up and glanced over at Keo. “The other one kept his mouth shut through the whole thing. Brave motherfucker. I don’t think he’s going to say much even if we cut off his balls. This one,” he added, pointing at Lewis, “I think is more willing. Just needs a little coaxing, is all.”
“Coaxing, huh?” Keo said.
“Something like that.” The redhead grinned before that quickly vanished, and he suddenly gave Keo a suspicious look. “You don’t know them, do you? They’re Fenton’s boys, too.”
“Nah, I don’t know them.”
Wagner nodded. “Good. So, you up to do a little tuning?”
“What exactly do you expect him to tell you?”
“Where the ones that escaped went. Buck thinks they must have some kind of a safe house somewhere out there. But even if they don’t, Lewis here probably knows where they went. He had to send them somewhere.”
“You said twenty people escaped the attack?”
Wagner shrugged. “Give or take.”
“Women and kids?”
“Some women, some kids, some guys.”
“You don’t sound all that sure…”
“I’m sure.”
“How?”
“’Cause we know how many were in that town, and the count doesn’t add up,” Wagner said.
They were spying on Winding Creek before the attack. Jesus Christ. I’m lucky they didn’t know I was around the area, too, or they would have definit
ely hit the cabin at the same time, Keo thought, when he realized Wagner was staring at him.
“What?” Keo said.
“You’re from Fenton,” the redhead said. It wasn’t a question.
“Yeah. We already went over that. What about it?”
“How many people from Fenton joined us for the raid?”
“What?”
“It’s an easy question,” Wagner said, and his hand moved not-so-casually to his holstered sidearm. “How many of Fenton’s guys came with us to take Winding Creek…Jay?”
Keo feigned thinking about it. “Fuck if I know,” he said, just before Wagner grabbed his gun.
The man had the disadvantage of having to grip, then pull the semiautomatic from its holster, while Keo only had to turn the submachine gun slightly with his right hand and pull the trigger.
Wagner glanced down at his chest, where the 9mm round had struck him. He looked confused more than anything, but that quickly gave way to pain about the same time his legs surrendered underneath him and he crumpled to the filthy floor.
Keo turned around and hurried to the windows and looked out.
The Ford F-150 was still parked outside where he last saw it, and it was still just as empty with no one in the back. He peered left toward the street, but there was nothing out there except an empty stretch of city and abandoned cars.
“Who are you?” a voice asked.
Keo looked over his shoulder and found Lewis, his left eye open and staring across the room at him.
“Who are you?” the man asked again.
Keo walked back, stepping over Wagner’s body, and crouched in front of Lewis. The man’s one good eye tracked his every movement, which was a good indicator ol’ Lewis had been playing possum up until now.
“Nice one, convincing him you were half dead,” Keo said.
Lewis blinked at him but didn’t confirm or deny.
“The people you and your buddy helped escape from Winding Creek,” Keo said. “Were two of them Emma and her daughter, Megan?”
Lewis didn’t answer. His eye shifted from Keo to Wagner’s body behind him, then back to Keo.
“What?” Keo said. “You think I’m trying to trick you?”
No answer.
Keo reached back with the submachine gun, pointed it at the back of Wagner’s head, and pulled the trigger. Lewis flinched when the round punched through Wagner’s skull and exited the front of his face, brain matter splashing the parts of the carpet lit up by the sunlight.
He looked back at Lewis. “See? Not a ruse. He’s really dead, and I really did kill him. Now, Emma and Megan. Did they get away?”
Lew looked conflicted. Unless, of course, Keo was reading him all wrong. There was a pretty good chance of that, given how badly bruised and bloodied Lewis’s face was. The guy could have been thinking about yesterday’s breakfast, for all Keo knew.
“Come on, man,” Keo said. “They’re my friends. Emma’s…more than that. Did they get away this morning? Do you even know who—”
He must have been pretty convincing, because Lewis said, before he could finish:
“They got out. Both of them. They got out…”
ELEVEN
“ARE YOU SURE?” Keo asked. “Emma and Megan? Blondes?”
Lewis stared suspiciously back at him with his good eye. Or, at least, that’s what Keo thought the man was doing. Lewis could have just been looking at him normally, or as “normally” as he could muster, given his current pulpy state.
“No,” Lewis finally said.
“No?” Keo repeated.
“Brunettes. Both.”
“Blue eyes?”
“Green. Both.”
Keo smiled. “Just had to be sure.”
“Sure now?”
“Maybe. You could still be lying. Blondes. Brunettes. Fifty-fifty, right?”
“What about redheads?”
“Thirty-seventy.” Keo shrugged. “You’ll forgive me if I don’t believe you. People have a bad habit of lying these days. Blame it on the state of the world. Or reality TV. Same shit.”
“You gotta trust somebody, sometime.”
Not if you’ve seen the things I’ve seen, pal, Keo thought, but said, “Are you saying you trust me?”
“No. Not even close.”
“Good answer.”
Keo stood up and glanced back at the curtainless windows. He could see the F-150 in the parking lot, that very dangerous M240 still pointed harmlessly up at the sky, and no signs of any of Wagner’s buddies having come back from their lunch.
“They’ll be back,” Lewis said.
“How many?” Keo asked, looking back at him.
“Three.”
“They did this to you? And your buddy here?”
Lewis nodded (or was that a flinch?), before turning his one good eye over to Vince. “Is he dead?”
Keo crouched in front of Vince, but he hadn’t even put a pair of fingers against the side of his neck before he knew the answer to Lewis’s question. Vince wasn’t moving at all, much less breathing, and his skin was clammy to the touch.
“He’s gone,” Keo said.
Lewis sighed and looked like he was about to go to sleep—or die.
Neither option was acceptable, so Keo put his hands on the man’s shoulders to keep him upright against the wall. “Where did they go? Emma and Megan?”
“With the others,” Lewis said.
“I got that part. But where, exactly?”
Lewis blinked at him.
“You know, right?” Keo asked. When Lewis nodded but didn’t say anything, “But you’re not going to tell me, is that it?”
“I’ll show you where they went.”
“You can barely walk.”
“I’ll manage.”
“That’s doubtful, my friend.”
“I’m not telling you.”
“Why not?”
“We’re back to trust again.”
“Didn’t you just say that we all have to trust someone sometime?”
“I’m still not going to tell you.”
“I just killed Wagner to save your life.”
“Thanks, but I still don’t trust you.” He shook his head. “This could all be a trick. I know how Buck operates.” Lewis shot a quick glance at Wagner’s still body before refocusing on Keo. “Take me with you, or you’ll never find Emma and Megan.”
Keo stared at the man. What were the chances Lewis was trying to sandbag him? Just because he knew what Emma and her daughter looked like—or their hair color, anyway—didn’t mean he wasn’t above lying about them surviving. He was desperate, and Keo had met plenty of desperate people who did desperate things.
“They’ll be back soon,” Lewis said. “They’ll kill you for what you did to Wagner. Or worse.”
“Oh yeah? What’s worse than dead?”
“You’re looking at it,” Lewis said.
Keo smirked before standing up. “You realize, of course, that if you’re lying to me, I’ll have to sew that good eye up. Mind you, not that I’d get any pleasure out of it, but it’s the principle of the thing, you understand.”
Lewis stared back at him but didn’t say anything.
Must be my lucky day, Keo thought when he peered into the parked Ford and saw the key dangling from the ignition.
He pulled out of the truck and looked past the empty parking lot at the street beyond. There was no one in sight, though he could hear voices and activity in the area. Princeville was big enough that Buck’s men had to spread out in order to loot the place, though Keo wondered how much was still left after nearly six years. Plenty, apparently, if those busy bees at the Walmart were any indication.
Keo left the F-150’s driver-side door open and hurried back to Room 15.
Lewis was leaning against the open doorway with Wagner’s pistol now stuffed in his formerly empty holster. Keo didn’t think it was possible, but the man looked in even worse shape with the warm sunlight against his face highlighting that fist-si
ze bump over his left eye.
The former Winding Creek resident peered back at him through the narrow slit that he called his right eye. “Keys?”
“Inside,” Keo said. He slipped one arm around Lewis’s waist, and the other man practically fell against him. “You gonna die on me, Lewis?”
“Not if I can help it,” the man said with a grunt.
Fortunately, Lewis was a lean one hundred and fifty-something pounds, and Keo was able to shoulder him without either one of them collapsing from exertion. Lewis did the best he could to assist, but the beating had taken its toll not just on his face but the rest of him. Keo could hear him grunting and see the grimace on his face with every step. Wagner and his pals hadn’t been gentle on the guy, that was for sure.
“Where did they go, anyway?” Keo asked, hoping to keep Lewis from focusing too much on the pain. “The other three?”
“The food truck,” Lewis said.
“Food truck?”
“Yeah. Basically what it sounds like. All the food is kept there.”
“Where is it now?”
“Wherever Buck is.”
That’ll be the mall.
“Who’s this Fenton guy?” Keo asked.
“It’s not a guy, it’s a place,” Lewis said. “Fenton, Texas.”
“Never heard of it.”
“Neither had I, until five years ago.”
Keo reached over and opened the truck’s passenger side door and helped Lewis inside. The man almost fell down on the seat before righting himself with some effort, then spent the next few seconds blinking his good eye against the sun pouring in through the cracked windshield. No, not cracks. There were a couple of bullet holes in it, where the driver sat. Which, Keo thought, probably explained the (very old, from the looks of it) dried blood on the upholstery behind the steering wheel.
Now that’s a bad omen if I ever saw one.
“Maybe I should go into the back, man the machine gun,” Lewis was saying.
Keo grinned. “Maybe you should focus on not dying first, pal.”
“Yeah, that’s probably a better idea.”
“Strap in.”
Lewis nodded and pulled at the seat belt while Keo hurried around the truck, giving the streets another look—