"This place was full of supplies, so we stayed for the last couple of days to rest. We were just going to check out the area for another place and come back tonight, but we ran into some of those... people."
"What people?" Richie asked, although he had a fairly good idea as to what the answer was going to be.
"We think they're cannibals," she said, tears welling in her eyes, "I think they wanted to eat us."
Elvis looked up sharply, but looked back at Alek after a few seconds. He knew about the cannibals. They all did.
"They didn't say anything when they were walking toward us," Amanda continued, "That's what tipped Alek off, I think. He grabbed my shoulder and turned me back this way and told me to run. As soon as we started running they started shooting at us and chasing. I didn't even know Alek was shot until we were almost back here."
"How many?" Buddy asked, "And how did you outrun them."
"Eight or ten, I think. We didn't outrun them. We got around a curve and got behind some cars. Alek saw a trunk that was open and we got in. We waited in there for a while, until I didn't hear anyone anymore. We came back here and he managed to get down the stairs before he passed out," she said, looking at her husband, "He was so strong."
"He'd better be strong," Richie said, "He lost a lot of blood from the sound of it."
"How far away from here were you when you hid?" Buddy asked her, "Do you know how long it took to get here?"
"An hour? Maybe a little less."
"That's not good," Buddy said, his eyes meeting Richie's, "That means they aren't too far away."
Richie checked the time before saying anything. He motioned toward the packs and Elvis went to work unpacking.
"Won't make any difference," Richie told his friend, "Sunrise should be happening now. Unless they have the world's biggest sunbrella, they aren't coming today."
"Does it stay cool down here?" Elvis asked the woman.
"As cool as it is right now," she answered.
"How hot is it, Richie?"
When Richie checked his thermometer, he was astonished. He hadn't really noticed the ambient temperature of the basement due to all of the excitement. When he looked up at his friends, there were tears in his eyes. The thermo hadn't read less than eighty-degrees underground in a very long time.
"It's seventy-eight," he said, quietly.
"Fuck you," Buddy said, reaching for the thermometer and reading it himself.
"Yeah," Richie said, grinning, "Fuck me."
"It's cooler," Elvis whispered as a smile sprouted on his lips.
"Thank God," Richie said, covering his face with the palms of his blood stained hands.
***
They ate leftovers from the night before, opening the re-sealable dehydration bags with matching grimaces, and offered some to Amanda. She took the food and ate without speaking.
She thanked them in a way that no words could equal by offering some of the food that she and Alek had been living on. All three men were near tears as they tasted the tablespoon of powdered peanut butter, trying to remember when they'd last enjoyed such sweetness.
"Jesus!" Buddy exclaimed, "That's so good. Where did you find it?"
"We had a box of packets at home. Alek packed it as a treat."
"I hope he wakes up soon. I wanna thank him," Elvis said, licking his spoon so clean that it shone in the dimly lit basement.
Richie volunteered to take the first watch. No one argued it and everyone else in the basement was asleep in moments. Richie watched over them, his weapon pointed at nothing and aimed at everything. He thought about the most wonderful number in the world. Seventy-eight.
He'd held to the idea that going north as far as they could would save them from the ever-increasing heat, but it was a hard notion to keep hold of when there wasn't hard evidence to support it. This, however, this chink in the armor that the world seemed to be trapped inside of, was so uplifting that he thought he might weep.
Wouldn't it be a sight for his friends when they woke. Richie would be lying on the ground, clutching the thermometer that had given him such terrible news in the last few months, and crying like a baby. He would have to control himself instead.
The real questions would come soon, though. Was it just the insulation of the basement that had caused this? Was the atmosphere actually cooler once they went outside? Was it a one-time thing, or would it be lasting? Was the world really less miserable at the end of these miles of travel?
He didn't know the answers, hadn't actually looked at the thermometer that night above ground, but they would all soon find out.
When Elvis woke to relieve him of his shift, they barely spoke. Elvis was still half asleep and Richie was too lost in his own thoughts to let anything intrude.
When Richie laid down to sleep he did it with a tired mind. It wasn't long before he crossed the line between the real world and the one where dreams take you away. His dreams were filled with falling snow.
***
Alek took his last breath some time during Richie's slumber. There was no last word or moment for the man. He simply ceased to exist. There were tears for him from Amanda, and a sadness felt by everyone in the room, but there wasn't anything to be done for the man.
They laid him down on the blanket upon which he'd slept so many days away, and carried him to the surface once the land fell under the shadow of night. Buddy and Richie put his body in a place where there would be no shade to stop the angry sun and walked off a little way to let Amanda have a last minute with her husband. They would keep heading north and she would go with them.
They walked. They walked. They walked.
The scenery didn't change a great deal as they made their way down the straight stretch of road that would lead them to Alaska. Small buildings cropped up here and there, but there was nothing they needed inside of the structures just yet.
Their little group was the only living thing for miles, as far as they could see. No man-eating men roamed this area. More of them were sure to arrive, but for the moment they were safe.
Miles would fall behind them on this night with minimal conversation. Death was unremitting and they'd all learned how to handle it in their own ways, but Alek’s passing was still a blow to their resolve.
Richie, Buddy, and Elvis were strangers to the dead man, but had given their effort toward saving his life and had failed. That failure would hang over them as they traveled.
What if it had been one of them who'd been wounded? Would they be able to do anything more for one of their own than they'd been able to do for Alek? Would they try harder and find some other way if it was Buddy on Death's doorstep? Or Richie? Or Elvis?
We couldn't have done anything more than what we did, Richie thought, He'd lost too much blood already.
Who knows where the bullet really was? thought Buddy, He was probably dead before he knew it.
This sucks, Elvis said to himself, This really sucks.
They walked.
Chapter 2
Calgary, AB
April 2, 2021
2:38 AM 93*F
Elvis could barely contain himself. They hadn't seen a department store since crossing into Canada, but there was one floating in the distance now. All of them were ready for a break, especially Amanda, who'd done more of her share of their nightly tasks. If they could rest for even two nights Richie was sure that things would get better for her.
She hadn't had time to grieve for her husband, not really, as they were keeping a ceaseless and rapid pace on their nightly travel. The big blue sign next to the huge white structure was an oasis, like a mirage, further up the road.
They approached the place with caution, as they always did, checking the area around the building for any signs of squatters and looking at the state of the entrances. This store wasn't untouched, by any means, but the windows were mostly secure and all of the doors remained locked.
If the inside proved to be a safe haven, they would have to find some way of patching the s
ingle front window that had been shattered. Someone, who was less subtle about entry than they were, had made his own way in.
Amanda stayed with Richie, covering his back as he worked on the bolt lock of a back door into the building. Buddy and Elvis were set to enter through the broken window. They wanted to secure the place from both sides. It would be much more efficient than entering as a complete group. The convenience of having four people rather than three was not lost on the three men and they were grateful for Amanda's presence.
Richie had improved upon his lock picking, but was having a hard time with the door. It was taking much longer than he liked and the delay was tapping on his nerves.
When the latch finally turned it was with an ease that he wouldn't have normally expected and he dropped his tension wrench to the ground. The tinkling sound of aluminum against asphalt pervaded the silence. The door swung open as he was fumbling for it and the barrel of a gun pressed against the top of his head.
Richie froze, refusing to look up, his eyelids slamming closed over his vision. He sincerely hoped that the person holding a gun to his head was one of his other two friends and that they were pulling some kind of a prank.
When he gathered the courage to open his eyes, seconds later, he saw an unfamiliar pair of hiking boots before him. No luck on the practical joke theory.
"Ma'am, if you would, just go ahead and drop your weapon that would be great," a man said from above him.
The clatter of the revolver hitting the pavement stung Richie's ears. His eyes went to the coach gun that lay to his right. The thing was just out of sight of the doorway, but he didn't dare reach for it.
He didn't want to look up and see the man's face for fear that it would cause him to squeeze the trigger. He waited, his breath going shallow, until the man that could kill him so easily spoke.
"I'm backing up just a little bit, but don't think I'm not still pointing at you," the voice said, "Now stand up and keep your hands where I can see them."
Richie did as he was told. When he finally got to see his aggressor, his appearance was surprising. The man was only five-eight and probably weighed one hundred forty-five pounds at best. He was clean shaven, and somehow his blonde hair was short and neat. His voice was much more rough than his appearance. He smiled at Richie, as if he weren't holding him in the sights of a weapon, but rather inviting him inside for a drink.
"Names?" he asked.
"Richie," he said.
"And you?"
"Amanda."
He looked at Amanda for a long moment, giving Richie time to contemplate the situation. Elvis and Buddy might already be inside and looking around. If so, he would need to figure out some way to warn them. If this man was the only one occupying the store, his friends would have a chance to either help Amanda and him, or get out of there.
That would be their choice, but if he knew Buddy, there would be a fight. If more people were inside, then there wasn't much he could do to even the odds now that he'd lost his weapon.
There was one more possibility that he dared not entertain. Maybe this man was actually friendly, but being as careful as Richie, himself, would have been. Maybe they would all end up as cohorts against the dangers of this new life they were leading.
When the man looked back to Richie, the jovial smile had vanished, revealing a severe look of dislike.
"You can call me Bail. Now get the fuck in here and join your buddies."
Richie's mind reeled at the statement. Elvis and Buddy had been captured.
***
"Right through that door," Bail told them from behind.
He'd backed into the building, keeping his weapon trained between the two of them, making sure that Richie knew that either one of them would be shot over any sudden movement. Since then, he'd been directing them through the store. He was following them with his pistol in one hand and the revolver he'd made Amanda drop in the other.
Amanda hadn't said a word, but Richie could tell by the look on her face that she was fighting to stay calm. He could empathize with her on that.
Richie pushed through a swinging door, thought about turning on their captor, and decided against it. One of the others might be hurt or killed if anyone heard the sounds of a struggle. He wasn't willing to risk their lives, just yet. Instead, he and Amanda passed through the entry without incident. Bail followed.
"Leave him alone," Elvis' voice echoed in the storeroom as Richie approached.
"Shut up, you fucking retard, or you'll get some, too!" yelled an unfamiliar voice.
Richie stiffened as he heard the sound of a fist hitting skin. When Bail told them to turn the last corner they could see the source of the noise.
Two men were holding Elvis by the arms, while two more were in the process of beating Buddy to a pulp. One was gripping his arms at the elbows from behind as the other took shots at Richie's friend. Richie almost ran to him, remembered the barrel of the gun that was surely pointed at this back, and chose to wait for a better opportunity.
"What the hell are you doing?" Bail asked the other men, "I said to hold onto em', not beat one to death."
"He took a swing at Jessie," the fellow who'd just punched Buddy in the stomach explained.
"Oh," Bail said, "That's fine. Quit it, though. He looks like he's had enough."
The two men dragged Buddy over to where Elvis was being held and dropped him. Elvis was let loose and fell immediately to Buddy, checking to see if he was still breathing, trying to make sure his friend would be okay.
Elvis looked up at the men as they backed away. Richie had seen anger on his friend's face many times, but never a pure and vengeful hatred as he saw now. Those men would be smart to keep an eye on Elvis. If they didn't, regrets wouldn't have time to be had.
"Go over by them," Bail told Richie and Amanda, "And don't get funny. There are a lot of guns at your backs."
Amanda joined Elvis, kneeling down to look at Buddy. Richie positioned himself between Bail's group and his own, protectively. He didn't think he'd be able to do much to save his friends, just then, but he wouldn't cower to these men. He heard Buddy cough and was glad. That meant they hadn't hit him hard enough to kill him.
"Also," Bail said, redirecting his attention to the men on his side, "Please don't use the word ‘retard’. It's not civilized and I won't hear someone spoken to like that."
The men nodded, obviously taking Bail's command seriously. Richie was sure, now, that Bail was the most dangerous man in the place. He would have to be if the others took his commands so submissively.
"Okay. Let's get to business here. What did you four think you were doing? Trying to break in on us? Wasn't smart maneuvering," Bail advised, "Coming in for supplies? Am I right?"
"That's all we were doing," Richie told him.
"Well why were you sneaking around like thieves, then?" Bail asked.
"We weren't."
"Picking a lock seems like something a thief would do. Don't you think so?"
"We do that so that we don't damage the mechanism. It's so we can use the locks if we decide to stay the night."
Bail nodded, a look of admiration slipping across his features. He looked around at his group and gestured toward Richie in a way of congratulation.
"Not bad. Makes sense."
Richie waited, not breaking eye contact with Bail.
"One problem."
"Yeah?" Richie asked.
"You picked the wrong place to check out."
"It's the only place for miles. We didn't think anyone would be here. Just let us go. We won't come back."
"I'd really like to do that, Richie. I really would," Bail said regretfully, "I'd like nothing more than to stock you four up with whatever you need and send you on your way."
"Then do it," Richie urged, "Please."
Bail seemed to consider the thought. It actually looked like he was thinking about it long and hard, but Richie knew that something else was running through his mind. A man doesn't gain power over so many
others by being merciful.
"I'll tell you what, Richie," Bail offered, "Three of you can leave. We need to keep one to pay our taxes with."
Richie's heart began to race. He knew what would come next. He also knew that he wouldn't be leaving anyone behind when he left this place.
"We'll do just what I said. We'll stock your packs and set you loose. We'll have to keep your guns, you understand, but you'll get to walk out of here. No harm. No foul."
Bail paused, looking at the three people on the ground. Richie could hear Buddy trying to get to his feet, the scratch of his boots on concrete as he slipped once or twice before planting his feet.
"You just have to pick which one of these three you're going to leave behind."
"Why would I do that?"
"Richie! I'm sure you went to school somewhere and learned the rules of commerce!" Bail announced, "Just because it's gotten a little warm out during the day doesn't mean we all don't have to answer to someone. We’ve all got to pay our dues to keep the machine running.
"The thing is, we need to give a body up to the local feeders in order to continue our days in this safe place. Usually we go looking for somebody, but here you are. You've saved us some effort, which is why I'm letting you keep most of your group."
Bail walked toward him. He took slow, sure footed, steps until they were only a foot or two apart. He winked at Richie and leaned in close.
"Me personally, I hope you leave the girl. I wouldn't mind a shot at that one before we give her up to the stew pot. I'm sure you fellas have had your share already," Bail said with a lecherous wink, as if they were two friends about to have a beer together, "But I'm not going to make any choices for you."
"Let them go," Richie said, "Keep me."
Bail laughed, waved his index finger back and forth, and shook his head. His demeanor was almost jovial, friendly as any neighborhood watch member, but false. Richie could see the steel in the man without looking too hard.
"Sorry, Richie. That wasn't one of the choices. Now I'm going to take away points."
The Dark Roads Page 9