“I’ll stay. I’ll go with you on this scavenger hunt or whatever you’re calling it. I’ll do whatever needs to be done. But the boy stays in the camp.” He moved to within six inches of Michael, his eyes narrowing to pinpoints as he glared at the man who was the same height, but fifty pounds lighter.
“Let me make this perfectly clear. If you try to take the boy with us, I’m leaving. I’ll walk right out of here. Your men can shoot me in the back, but otherwise, fuck you.” He bumped the other man’s chest with his own. “But before I go, I’ll snap your neck and toss you outside for those monsters to eat. I swear to God no one will be able to tear me off of you before you die.”
Jeff watched, his eyes growing wider with every word. Michael’s expression never changed, but his body went rigid with tension. George turned and stalked off.
“But what about your family, George? Won’t they be lonely without you?”
George froze, and Jeff could see the murderous look on his face. Apparently so did Ben, who tipped his hat up off of his eyes and watched the proceedings with much greater interest.
George walked back toward Michael, and Ben leaned forward in his chair, ready to spring to his feet. Jeff took a step back and noticed Frank getting out of the way as well. George stopped a few feet from Michael. His fists were clenched and air hissed between his teeth as he breathed. His fair complexion had turned crimson, and he looked like a volcano about to erupt.
Michael stood relaxed, motionless, but Jeff could see the fear the leader was carefully trying to conceal. He had not expected George to respond to the snide comment and was fighting to look nonplussed in the face of the thickly muscled man standing before him.
George’s color gradually returned to normal, and the throbbing vein on his forehead settled. The hissing of his breath stopped, but the look of raw hatred for Michael remained on his face.
“Don’t ever speak about my family again. Ever.”
George turned and marched off. Michael continued to stare at him as he walked away, his shoulders slumping in relief even as he tried to maintain a nonchalant air.
When he had composed himself, Michael looked around the camp again. “Fifteen minutes, people! Get your shit together and let’s get rolling!” He was already moving back toward his RV before he was done speaking. He slipped past Cindy and opened the door, slamming it shut behind him. She lingered outside for a moment, her eyes filled with malignant glee, as if she had enjoyed the argument immensely. Jeff watched as she turned and followed her boyfriend inside.
His eyes fell on Jason. The boy looked stunned by what had happened, and when he saw Jeff staring at him with anger in his eyes, he took off running across the courtyard. He reached their RV and fumbled with the door for a moment before charging inside, slamming it shut behind him.
Megan stood up as Jason ran by, calling to him, but he ignored her. She followed him to the RV door, banging on it at first and then trying to open it. When she realized it was locked, she went back to pounding on it. Jeff watched as Lydia stood up and walked over to her, taking the emaciated woman by the shoulders and whispering in her ear. Carefully, Lydia pulled Megan back toward the fire pit.
Jeff looked at George, who was sitting by himself at one of the tables, his head in his hands. Walking over, he noticed that Ben had his hat back down over his eyes, as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. He looked over at Frank as well. He was taking a swig out of a silver flask, and when he saw Jeff staring, he gave him a nasty grin.
George spoke first when Jeff reached him.
“Don’t worry about me, Jeff. Jason’s safe; that’s all that matters.” George raised his head. His voice was hollow and his eyes glassy. He looked almost frail, despite his stocky frame.
“I’m sorry, George. I tried… ” Jeff’s voice drifted off as George shook his head and rubbed his eyes. His shoulders began to shake, and Jeff timidly moved forward, thinking his friend was crying.
George moved his hands away and, to Jeff’s relief, revealed that he was not crying, just breathing heavily. “I know, Jeff. Don’t worry about it.”
George stared out past the walls, his eyes distant.
“You know, for nearly six weeks, I cowered in that church with Jason. We never did anything together but hide away from the world. I was so focused on getting to my family that I completely forgot about him… about what was going through his mind.” Jeff jumped when George slammed a meaty fist on the table. “I didn’t give a shit about him.”
“You did what you had to do, George. You took care of him when there was no one else to do it.”
George waved Jeff’s excuses away. “No, I didn’t. I took care of myself, and Jason was just along for the ride.” His shoulders slumped. “But I can make up for that now. I can do right by Jason, even if he doesn’t want me to.”
Jeff felt helpless. He didn’t know what to say in the face of the guilt George piled onto himself.
“I will get to my family, Jeff.” George looked up, his jaw set with determination. “It might not be right away, but it will happen. No one—not Michael or a million plague victims—is going to stop me.” He stood up without another word and left.
Jeff was still watching George walk away when a hand gently touched his shoulder from behind. He turned to see Megan standing there, her face wet with tears.
When she saw the expression on Jeff’s face, Megan pulled him close and hugged him. He wrapped his arms around her and felt the warm wetness of her tears saturate his shirt.
“It’ll be okay. I promise it’ll be okay,” she whispered.
Jeff nuzzled the top of her head and nodded, squeezing her tight. She repeated the words, and he wondered whether Megan was trying to convince him or herself. As they stood holding one another, he realized it made no difference.
Chapter 11
The plan was simple.
Ben would scout ahead on foot and use his walkie-talkie to stay in touch. Michael had the other and would be driving the minivan. Ben would report with a series of beeps on the talkie indicating whether it was safe to hit the road. Other than that, they would maintain radio silence.
From his seat in the van, Jeff saw nothing threatening wandering through the trees. He looked at the RVs, wondering how the group had managed to get the five bus-sized vehicles into the clearing without creating a stir. His eyes wandered over to the heavy machinery sitting dormant outside the protective circle of motor coaches. Teddy had mentioned that their gas tanks were bone dry, but they only knew that because they had tried to siphon off the fuel. Besides, starting them up would have notified every slug in a ten-mile radius of their location.
The trees creating a wall around the area were thicker to the south, where the new subdivision was supposed to have expanded, had construction gotten underway. Jeff guessed the trees probably stretched for a least half a mile back.
The inside of the van felt like a sauna as everyone waited for Ben’s signal. The keys were in the ignition, but the vehicle had not been started, so there was no air conditioning. Michael insisted on doing nothing to draw attention before absolutely necessary, so there was little for everyone to do but twiddle their thumbs and try not to sweat to death in the cramped quarters.
Jeff was jammed between George and Teddy, huge circles of wetness on his armpits and chest. He gripped his baseball bat in both fists, the tip resting on the floor. Michael had given him his bat back and had the audacity to act as if he were being magnanimous as he did. George, on the other hand, had been given nothing with which to defend himself. If they got into trouble, he would be forced to use his bare hands.
Jeff had argued that he and George should get their rifles back, and Michael had almost laughed at the request. “Prove your worth to me today and then maybe I’ll consider giving them back to you down the road” had been his response. The weapons were to remain in the camp, and Cindy would be in charge of them while they were gone.
The heat was potent, and though Michael had the front windows
rolled down, there was no airflow. Just a bunch of sweaty men turning the van into an oven.
Jeff let his mind wander as they waited, and it drifted back to Megan. It had been hard for her to let him and George leave, especially with Jason still locked in their RV not speaking to anyone. Jeff was nervous about leaving her there with that crazy bitch Cindy in charge, but Lydia reassured him and George that she would watch out for both Megan and Jason and keep Cindy away from them. It didn’t make him feel much better, but he thanked her anyway.
Jeff glanced over at George. The look on his friend’s face made him nervous. The pain of what Michael had forced the family man to agree with was fresh in George’s eyes. Jeff patted him on the shoulder, and George looked at him. He was still bitter, but he managed a small smile.
After what seemed like forever, the walkie-talkie started chirping. Jeff wondered if it was Morse code Ben was sending over or some other code he and Michael had come up with. Whatever it was, it did not take long for Michael to translate.
“Okay, gents, the coast is clear up to the road. Let’s move.”
Michael turned the key in the ignition, and the van roared to life, shattering the quiet surrounding them. Jeff cringed when he realized how loud the minivan sounded in the dead silence of the world.
They turned away from the circle of RVs. Jeff glanced back as they moved down the rutted path. Soon the trees hid the camp, and it disappeared behind the canopy. He thought again about Megan and Jason and could only hope they remained safely tucked away while he and George went on the salvage run.
Before he knew it, they were at the cars lining the roadway. Jeff nearly laughed as he looked at how they were arranged in a perfect funnel to trap a victim. He rolled his eyes, wondering how he could have missed that the day before when they had been captured by Michael and the others so easily.
He looked back over at George, who was wistfully staring at the cars. He wondered what his friend was thinking, but it was Megan’s words that ran through Jeff’s head:
“Jeff, take care of George out there. Please, for me. I just don’t know how he’ll deal with it. Please… ”
The plea echoed over and over in Jeff’s brain, even more than Megan’s request that he take care of himself. Jeff tapped the bat against the floorboards, recalling his response to her.
“Nothing is going to happen out there. I promise I’ll take care of both of us,” He’d assured her.
He had made a promise to Megan, and it was a promise he intended to keep.
At Michael’s command, everyone climbed out of the van. They caught sight of Ben, who stood up from his hiding place between two of the cars. His bow was at the ready, an arrow already notched. Michael walked over to talk to him as everyone milled around the van, looking down the road toward Manchester.
The town was like most other small burgs in the rural Midwest. It had a modest downtown area with a stretch of fast food restaurants, commercial operations, a small amount of industry, and a ton of farmland. Jeff tried to recall anything about the town that he knew, like a significant landmark, but nothing came to mind.
“Okay, let’s huddle up.”
Michael snapped his fingers several times. Everyone moved around him in a semicircle. As he went to one knee, Ben backed away. Jeff stared at the broad-shouldered monster of a man in his workman’s coverall and wondered how many yards of the durable material it took to wrap his massive frame. He also wondered how the giant tolerated the heat in the heavy fabric. There was a thin veneer of sweat on Ben’s forehead, but otherwise he looked fine.
Jeff looked down at Michael, who was drawing a map on the pavement with his finger.
“This is base camp. Ben is going to recon off on his own in town.” Heads popped up to look at the big man, but he was too busy moving north to notice. “Several of you are going to hit the stores nearby.”
Michael was staring at Jeff and smiled. “Think you can handle that?”
“I can handle it. I don’t think we need to bother with the formalities here. We already know what’s out there. Let’s just do this and get back to camp safely.”
The smile wavered, but Michael’s eyes stayed on Jeff. His irritation was obvious as he shook his head in dissatisfaction at the blasé answer. After a few moments, his eyes moved to Marcus.
“Marcus is going to lead the group. You’ll head down the road and go straight for the stores. It’s up to him to decide if you’ll split up or not. Jeff, George, Ray, and Teddy, you’re with him.”
There was an audible groan from Marcus. For the first time Jeff could recall, he heard the bony hillbilly string more than a couple words together. “Ah shit, boss. Why the hell do I have to take ‘em out?”
His voice was not quite as twangy as Frank’s; it was flat Ohioan versus Frank’s pseudo-country accent.
Michael stared at Marcus. It was not a threatening look, but a patient one, as if he were dealing with a moody child. Their eyes met briefly, and after a moment, Marcus’s dropped. He mumbled to himself, but said nothing that anyone could decipher.
“So where will you and Frank be while we go shopping?”
Michael did not look over at Jeff immediately, his eyes still trained on his subordinate. After a moment, he turned to Jeff. The look was the same as the one he had given Marcus.
“We’ll be here, of course. This is base camp,” Michael repeated, exasperated. “We need to maintain radio contact with Ben in case he reports any problems.”
Jeff squinted and then nodded thoughtfully. “Makes sense… someone should stay here. It’s a rallying point in case things go wrong, right?”
Michael returned the nod almost imperceptibly.
“But it seems to me that the people who are heading down the road should be carrying the weapons.”
Before Michael could respond, Frank moved in front of Jeff. His nostrils were already flaring as his pupils narrowed to pinpoints.
“Listen, smartass. I’m not about to give up my weapon to you… or anyone else, for that matter.”
He moved closer, and Jeff was reminded for the second time that day how bad the hillbilly’s breath stank.
The two stared at each other, their mutual contempt obvious.
Frank edged forward, and Jeff’s eyes were drawn to the stout man’s gut. It was magnetic, like it had its own gravitational pull. It was round and well defined, not sloppy or sagging, protruding outward like the prow of a gelatinous ship. Megan’s gun was wedged there at its edge, pressed up against the filthy denim of his straining jeans. Jeff stared down at the gun like he had back at the camp. This time, Frank caught him doing it. He took a step back, his hand coming up to cover the weapon.
Jeff nodded toward the magnum.
“Seems like one of the weapons you’re carrying wasn’t yours to begin with, now was it?”
Slowly Frank’s fingers wrapped around the pistol grip of the silver-hued revolver. Jeff watched, mesmerized. Frank’s forefinger slid into the trigger guard.
His voice was a greasy whisper. “You want this? Do ya?” Excitement danced in Frank’s piggy eyes as he telegraphed his desire to have Jeff reach for the gun.
Jeff’s grip on his baseball bat tightened. He was sure he could get off at least one solid swing before Frank could pull the trigger.
“Enough, you two!” Michael stepped between them, his hand raised as he forced the two bickering men to back off.
“No one is giving up their weapons.” He looked at Frank, who was still trying to stare through him at Jeff. The crony looked up at his boss after a moment, and his anger visibly cooled. He took his hand away from the gun and raised the appendage, showing Michael it was empty.
Satisfied, Michael turned to Jeff. “Besides, this is just a quick snatch and grab. In and out.” He looked disdainfully at Jeff and then at everyone else in turn. “None of you should need weapons anyway.”
Michael moved out of the circle and walked a few feet toward the town. He pointed at it as he looked back at the others. “Grab fo
od, medicine, water… everything you can. Don’t screw around, and get back here quickly.” He motioned to Frank, who nodded and walked back to the minivan. Frank returned with several empty duffel bags and passed them around.
He threw one at Jeff’s head, but Jeff caught it before it hit him. It was a decent-sized canvas rucksack, military issue. It could carry a good deal of loot. As Jeff stared at the bag, he had a sneaking suspicion why he had been given it.
“So we’re not taking the van? We’re just walking into town on foot?” His voice was filled with disbelief.
Michael stared at Jeff, the exasperation back. Sighing, the young leader rubbed his eyes wearily with his thumb and forefinger. He shook his head and barked out a harsh laugh.
“Jeff, I’m starting to wonder if you were put on this earth just to piss me off.”
Jeff forced himself to take a deep breath. George moved closer and gave him a puzzled look.
“Michael, I’m not trying to piss you off,” Jeff said in his most rational voice. “I’m just trying to understand why we can’t take the van down the road, pull in front of one of the stores, collect some stuff, and be on our way before any of those things even realize we were there.”
The whole time he was speaking, Michael was shaking his head. More than once, he tried to interrupt, but Jeff persisted until he was finished.
When he was done, Michael asked quietly, “Jeff, how did we discover you?”
“What does that have—”
“Please, Jeff. Indulge me. How did we discover you?”
Jeff sighed, knowing where the question was leading. “From the van. The noise it made as we drove down the road.”
Michael gave him an expectant look, clearly hoping Jeff would connect the dots.
Jeff didn’t care a bit for Michael’s logic. “So what if we wake up a few of those stiffs? It’s going to take us all of five minutes to get in and out if we use the van. Before there are enough of them to cause us any grief, we’ll be long gone!”
“But if you move in quietly—”
The Dark Trilogy 02 - Into the Dark Page 6