Kill Town, USA

by Joseph N. Love

  Shortly, the headlights flashed. The maniac trucks appeared up the road. I set the flashlight on the asphalt aimed at the vigilantes. There was a heavenly silence to the headlights. They almost looked like stars. And then the monstrous growl of the engines emerged over the silence. They were still a long way off. The tinny exhausts howled.

  And then they were closer. Closer still. The centerline glowed. The asphalt looked like glass. I emptied another clip straight into the cross-eyed beams. I stepped over to the shoulder as I reloaded. I emptied the second clip at the line of trucks. I raised the Winchester and aimed, but the first truck had run off the road.

  Repent.

  This is your God.

  Your Salvation.

  The next truck screamed past, out of control. It soared over the ditch and into a cedar fence post. The rear whipped around and the truck tipped on its side. The third truck had stopped up the road with a flat and a busted light. The fourth stayed back. Far enough back it didn’t matter. I jogged to the third truck.

  “I think I seen him in the ditch here,” I yelled to the men in the third truck.

  “He alone?” Someone yelled back.

  They let me get to the driver’s door, the window down. They scrambled inside for extra rounds and radios.

  “Do you believe in God?”

  God almighty.

  There is no other.

  I took the nicer of the rifles, a Remington .270 with a modest scope, and a tackle box of bullets. A hundred yards away, the fourth truck was in the middle of a three-point turn. I hit the driver in the neck and the truck rolled lazily into the ditch. Two other men piled out of the truck and returned fire in my direction, bullets ricocheted off the road and whizzed past. Bullets sank into tree trunks and pinged off the tailgate, but the men were only shooting in the dark. One leaned over the bed, illuminated by the third brake light. The other took cover behind an open door.

  The Remington .270 showed them the way.

  As fast as it started, it was quiet. And in the silence, Audrey shrieked from the ditch.

  “What are you doing?”

  I pointed up the road. “The strong do what they can.”

  “Are you insane? Are you?”

  I hadn’t made a woman that angry since Mom. I almost felt bad for Audrey. There was no use.

  “Answer me, Jack.” She was on the road, storming toward me in the dark.

  I pointed to the trucks as if they were on display. As if my whole plan was obvious. “No one would believe one man did this,” I said. “They won’t think to watch out for a guy with a bum leg. They’ll be looking for a gang.”

  “What good is it, you trying to get killed? Leaving me at their mercy?”

  “You’re at your own mercy, aren’t you?” I reached into her coat and pulled out the pistol. “Aren’t you? If you know what’s going to happen?”

  She shook her head. “I don’t believe in that.”

  “You don’t believe there’s an easy way out?”

  “What about you?”

  “What about me?”

  “Why come this far and let me tag along? Why try? Why not kill yourself?”

  I had no answer. I wasn’t going to mention Dad. Wasn’t going to mention as I stood in front of her, swallowed by the blackness of the road and the cold of night, I was thinking of shooting myself in front of her. That I’d already thought it ten times over.

  “I just want to make it as far as possible,” she said at last. “That’s all.”

  “I…” my mouth hung open.

  “What?” She demanded.

  “I like your company. And I’m outraged at this,” I grabbed her arm. “I’m furious about it. I’m alone again. I was enjoying not being alone.”

  The argument was over. We walked up the road in silence. We walked to the vanishing point. We disappeared into the wooded shoulder and the darkness of trees.

  “How is your arm?” I asked finally, calmly.

  “My what?” She asked the ground. “Oh. It doesn’t really hurt. I haven’t thought about it much. It’s numb mostly. I like your company, too.”

  “Good. We’re stuck together now.”

  “I don’t mind being stuck with you. If your life is going to turn into a war zone, there are far worse people to be with.”

  “Watts.”

  She sighed. “Watts was a war zone.”

  “Tom mentioned you stayed with him sometimes. When you and Watts were at it.”

  “I wanted a divorce. Watts didn’t believe in it.”

  “You could have left.”

  She took hold of my hand and stopped walking. She lifted her jacket and shirt and put my hand to her ribs under her left breast. It was concave, the ribs felt swollen where they’d healed. “I did leave. I just wanted a day or two away. I went to Daddy’s. Daddy had to sit there and watch while Watts....”

  “I’m glad he’s dead, then,” I took my hand away. “But I hate it for Tom.”

  “There was a heartbroken man,” she said. “Wasn’t anything he could do. He felt helpless. We both did.”

  “You had to go back.”

  “But I didn’t have to love him. You can shut someone out of your heart pretty easily.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  “I’d be surprised if you had a heart.”

  “My Mom. I lived with her a while after Dad died, but she didn’t want a thing to do with me. I could tell she didn’t want me around. I spent all my time making her mad. I burned her clothes. Crushed her cigarettes. I killed her dog. I slit its throat in front of her. It was a cruel thing to do and I regret it. She got rid of me. The court tried to send me to live with some family. I didn’t know them. I was old enough to work. I left their house and went to work.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “I deserved it for what I did to that dog. I’m not cruel. I always loved Dad better than her. He was smart. Hard-working. She,” I stopped at the thought. “She didn’t love me.” It was something I’d never said.

  We crested the hill. A house was visible across a field. I could still hear the creek below. What looked like an oil lamp burned inside the house. A yellow light flickered in the window.

  “We should stay clear,” Audrey said. “I don’t want to take any chances.”

  I tried to agree, but was blinded by a flashlight. Audrey and I stopped to shield our eyes. The light bounced around, shaky and dim.

  “Can you get a good shot?” A girl asked.

  “Not really, hold the flashlight better.”

  “Are they fat like the one in the barn?”

  “No. They stopped.”

  “Hey!” I yelled.

  “I don’t think they’re dead.”

  “Shut up, I know that.”

  “Get the flashlight out of my face,” I shouted.

  “Them guns loaded?” The boy asked.

  “Yeah,” I said.

  “So are ours.”

  We dropped the Remington and the Winchester. The flashlights moved out of our eyes and onto the guns. A boy and a girl crawled out of a feed barrel. The girl quickly picked up the guns, a barrel in each hand, the butts dragging the ground. The boy carried something larger than a twenty-two.

  “I know you got a handgun. I see it bulging in her coat.”

  Hesitantly, Audrey held out the gun.

  “You, too,” he aimed the rifle at me.

  I held out mine, too.

  “You best come back to the house,” he picked up the guns and stuffed them in his jacket.

  “She best be careful with those rifles. I said they’re loaded.”

  “You think I’m stupid?”

  “You think my sister’s stupid?”

  “I don’t know you or your sister. But the guns are loaded.”

  “She’s fine,” he said. “Come on before I get bored and shoot you anyway.”

  “How old are you?” Audrey asked.

  The boy got behind us and whacked my splinted foot with the butt of his rifle. I droppe
d to the snow. “Old enough to notice him favoring his right foot. Move it.”

  “Well,” Audrey said. “I’m twenty-seven. My name is Audrey and he’s Jack. His leg is hurt.”

  “I know it. Walk.”

  The little girl walked in front of us, leaving snake tracks with the rifles. “Georgie, you shouldn’t be so nasty. You wasn’t even supposed to leave your room tonight. Now you have to tell Daddy why you was out after curfew.”

  “You do, too. So shut up, brat.”

  “I’m gonna tell Daddy you was being nasty and unsportsman.”

  “Shut up.”

  The girl never looked at us, just dragged the rifles lazily along. “He’s ten since you asked,” she told us.

  “Almost eleven,” he mumbled.

  “And he’s not friendly. So he hangs out with his sister a lot. But she—that’s me—can’t hardly stand him. He’s a pain in the a-s-s.”

  “I’m telling you swore.”

  “I didn’t swear, I spelled. His name’s Georgie. He doesn’t go by George. Don’t ask why a-cause I don’t know. And his sister’s—my name is Mai. And I am seven. And I spend time with Georgie because I feel sorry for him.”

  “You the one don’t got friends.”

  “He’ll talk and talk. But you don’t have to listen. Georgie, do you want to knock or should I?”

  “Hell, I ain’t about to knock at my own house. Just go in.”

  “Ain’t your house, it’s Daddy’s house. And Mama’s a-cause she runs it. Every place has an owner and a manager. And they are in charge.” Mai turned around to us. “Do you believe that, Audrey?”

  “Believe what, sweetie?”

  “Every place has an owner and a manager.”

  “That sounds right.”

  Mai dragged the rifles to the side of the porch and set them in the snow by the steps. Then, we followed her up the steps while Georgie barged in the house, the hallway mostly dark with a gentle glow from the hidden lamp. We stayed outside with Mai. She was dressed head-to-toe in pink winter wear. Her cap, puffy coat, and vinyl boots were all a size too large. Standing still, she looked like a lawn ornament. We heard yelling. And silence. Footsteps boomed toward us, vibrating our feet as they got closer.

  “Don’t worry, I don’t think Georgie told on me for swearing.”

  “That’s good, sweetheart,” Audrey said.

  Mai smiled. “Jack doesn’t talk a lot,” she whispered.

  “Tell me about it,” Audrey whispered back.

  A short, wide man came to the door. Georgie was tucked shyly behind him. At the end of the hallway, I saw a woman. She was their mother I guessed. She stood with a kerosene lamp in one hand.

  “I told you they wasn’t like the others,” Georgie said.

  “You speak?” The man’s voice was soft but loud.

  “Of course,” Audrey said.

  “Him,” he pointed to me.

  “He doesn’t say much,” Mai whispered to him.

  I stared at the wide man.

  “Get inside. Come on,” he pushed open the screen door and held it for us as we trailed in melted snow and dirt. As Mai came in, her father stopped her.

  “You put their guns by the steps?”

  “Yessir.”

  “Grab them real quick and bring them in.”

  I turned, “They’re loaded.”

  “You think my daughter’s stupid?”

  “He thinks Mai’s stupid, Daddy,” Georgie said.

  Mai kicked the door open and yelled, “He don’t think I’m stupid, Daddy! He’s just a worrier.”

  Mai dragged the rifles across the hardwood floor and stopped next to us at the kitchen table.

  “They got a deer gun and a cannon, Daddy.”

  “I see they do. Why don’t you hand them here and go to bed?”

  “Yeah, get to bed,” Georgie said.

  “Boy, go to your room. You’re already in trouble,” Mai handed over the rifles and the man set them on the kitchen table. Georgie and Mai skulked off to their rooms. “Why don’t we talk in private,” he pointed to the hallway.

  He led us into a spare bedroom. The twin bed had one pillow, the pillowcase freshly starched. Audrey and I sat on the bed. He sat on the small, unfinished desk in the corner. His wife stood in the doorway holding the lamp. He reached out to me, hand open. I shook it.

  “Matthew Scudder.”

  “Jack Heart. This is Audrey.”

  They shook hands. Matthew lowered his head and scratched the nape of his neck. He sat up and pointed to the woman in the shadows. “That’s Claire. My wife.”

  Claire waved softly to us, her face warm and yellow in the lamplight.

  “Were the kids hiding in the feed barrel?”

  I nodded. Audrey stared at her shoes.

  “Either there or the barn, that’s where they been sitting out the last two days. Georgie could have shot you dead, you know. He’s a good shot.”

  “I could have shot him, too.”

  “Well, that’s not the matter. Everyone knows to watch the woods on account of that’s where those things come through. Use it like a highway. The straightest path, I guess. Now, why you’re wandering through the middle of it, a lady with you,” he eyed Audrey’s fleece-lined boots, muddy and tattered. “It’s beyond me. You know someone’s out there just waiting to shoot without asking who’s there.”

  “Well, we don’t know that. Didn’t know that.”

  “You’re the only people in the world who don’t know what’s going on is what you’re telling me?”

  “We know. But that the woods are off limits, that’s news to us.”

  “That’s the first thing you should have known.”

  “Sewell only told us about the quarantine,” Audrey said to herself.

  “You talked to Sewell?”

  “Well, yeah. Tried to kill us. Then took us to his house.”

  “Wonder you’re not still there. He tends to hoard people. Kinda lonely.”

  “We noticed.”

  “He give you this rifle?” He tapped the Remington’s stock.

  “No.”

  “Yours?”

  “No.”

  “I know it’s not because I sold that rifle to a boy just a couple weeks ago.”

  “That boy is dead now,” I said. “And I have his rifle.”

  He looked me up and down like he had Audrey. “Why are you two going through the woods?”

  “We’re trying to get out.”

  “Everyone’s trying to get out.”

  “We don’t live here, though.”

  “No?”

  “No. I was hiking. I got trapped.”

  “You hiking, too?”

  “No,” Audrey said.

  “You together?”

  “We are now.”

  “What’s in the pack?”

  I told him exactly what I’d kept in the pack and what I’d left in the woods.

  “We would really like to get out. Not a place to stay, not something to eat, just out,” Audrey told him.

  “I don’t blame you. This isn’t exactly a quarantine zone, it’s a military zone. A rural Death Valley.“

  “It’s a kill town. Like the sign says.”

  “Exactly. And let me tell you the truth,” he stared at Audrey. “Everyone with half an ounce of common sense wants to leave. But that’s just not an option. We got two main roads, a couple of farm roads, and the river. All’s blocked but the river.”

  “Then we’re going to the river.”

  “What’s this about?” He slapped the desk. “I understand you’re a long way from home, but you have to appreciate the situation. You can’t go anywhere.”

  “Are you the law?” Audrey snapped.

  “There’s no law anymore. Not at the moment.”

  “I think we’re just going to leave.”

  He held up his hands. “Let me set you straight. They’re not dangerous because they’re nervous and shooting at everything that moves. They’re dangerous becaus
e they’re not taking chances. Do you get that? Even if you’re fine, no signs of infection, they’ll take you in for any reason they can. Make up something if they have to.”

  “And you’re different? You’re not locking us in your spare bedroom and taking away our guns?”

  “The fact that you’re even alive is luck. That’s it. The moment you walked in my house, you became the safest you’ve ever been. And now your safety isn’t luck. It’s me.”

  Audrey pulled up her sleeve to reveal the blackened bite wound. “The safest I ever was, I was at home when I didn’t have to worry about any of this shit. And if I’m going to turn into one of those goddamn monsters, then I’d like to do so freely. I don’t want to die a prisoner in your kill town.”

  His eyes fixed on the bite mark. He chewed his lower lip and looked at me. “You?”

  I shook my head. “I’m clean.”

  He looked back to Claire. She stood still and quiet with the lamp in both hands. They seemed to get lost in each other. A secret.

  Someone knocked on the front door. Pounded. Frantic.

  “Wait here a minute.” Matthew left the room, Claire followed.

  We heard the front door swing open. The man at the door rambled loudly, half-drunk, breathless. “We think it was an ambush. They took out two of our dirt bikes. Must be ten, twenty of them. They killed all our men in the convoy on highway Thirty-One. Four trucks full of men.”

  “Did you search the woods?”

  “We used the spotlights, yes.”

  “I heard a bunch of automatic fire. Was that you searching?”

  “We were retaliating.”

  “You were scared and wasting bullets.”

  “They’re still out there.”

  “Get a bigger group. Get some dogs. Go into the woods.”

  “A bigger group?”

  “If they’re ambushing, we need a big defense.”

  “Oh.”

  “Get on that search group.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Matthew appeared in the doorway. “I guess you heard the boy.”

  “Yes,” I said.

  “They aren’t looking for twenty men, are they?”

  “If they are, they’ll be disappointed.”