Death in the Desert

by J. R. Roberts

  “No, neither do I.”

  He walked around behind the desk to examine the key. It was quiet, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t working. He didn’t know how to use to, though. He touched it, depressed it a few times, just eliciting a short clackety-clack for Emily, but he didn’t know if anyone at the other end had heard it.

  “Can you make it work?”

  “No,” he said. “I don’t know how.”

  “Oh.” She was obviously disappointed. Then she brightened. “Can I do it?”

  She climbed on a chair and began to play with the key, making it go clackety-clackety-clackety. Clint wondered if anyone out there would hear it and send someone to investigate. Or if the key operator had sent any messages concerning the disease. Or had he died before he could?

  He looked around at the yellow slips, but there were no telegrams that would help him.

  He watched as Emily happily played with the key. He took a seat, decided to let her play with it to her heart’s content, until she grew tired, while he tried to figure out their next move.

  • • •

  She spent a good half hour playing with the key. He sat in the chair with his chin in his hand, drifting off, until suddenly the chatter of the key stopped. When he opened his eyes, he saw her sitting there, staring at him, looking terrified.

  “Hey, honey, what is it? What’s wrong?”

  “I—I thought you was dead, Clint.”

  “No, sweetie, no,” he said, “I was just resting. Come here.”

  She came to him and he hugged her tightly, her little arms wrapped around his neck.

  EIGHT

  As they left the telegraph office, Clint asked, “Emily, have you been sleeping in your own bed?”

  “No,” she said, “it’s too sad and scary. The house is so empty.”

  “Then where have you been sleeping?”

  She shrugged. “A different place every night—but not where there’s any dead people.”

  “Well,” he said, “I can’t blame you for that. I wouldn’t want to sleep where there’s dead people. So where do you think we should sleep tonight?”

  “There’s lots of bed I ain’t slept in yet,” she said. “Let’s go and look!”

  “Okay,” he said, “let’s go.”

  They walked around town—with Clint actually walking and Emily astride Eclipse—stopping in a building whenever she pointed it out. He was happy to let her do the choosing, thus keeping her mind busy.

  • • •

  They stopped in front of a small building and she said, “This was Aunt Kathy’s boardinghouse.”

  “She was your aunt?” he asked.

  “No, silly,” she said. “That was the name of her boardinghouse.”

  “I see. Well, let’s have a look.”

  He lifted her down from the horse and they went up the front steps to the porch. He tried the door and found it locked. Many of the buildings they’d check had been unlocked. Apparently, “Aunt Kathy” had thought to lock her door behind her. Maybe she was planning on coming back.

  “I guess I’ll have to force the door,” he said. “Stand back.”

  Emily moved away. As Clint prepared to put his shoulder to the door, there was a shot. A bullet shattered the glass of the door and just missed his head. He leaped to the side, his hand on his gun.

  He looked at Emily and said, “I guess there’s somebody else alive in town.”

  “Are you all right?” she asked.

  “I’m fine. Let’s see if we can find out who this is. You stay there—and crouch down low.”

  “All right.”

  Clint took his gun out, reached over, and tapped on the door with the barrel.

  “Hello inside the house? We don’t mean you any harm. I’ve got little Emily Patterson out here. Apparently she was immune to the disease that killed so many people.”

  He listened, but there was no reply.

  “My name is Clint Adams. I only rode into town yesterday. Are you all right?”

  There was no answer, then a woman’s voice said, “Go away! I have a rifle.”

  “I know that,” he called back. “Your bullet just missed me. But why are you shooting?”

  “You’re not stealing anything from me,” she shouted back.

  “What makes you think I want to steal?”

  No answer.

  “Look, are you . . . Aunt Kathy? I have a little girl out here with me.”

  “Prove it!”

  “Emily, call out to the lady.”

  “What do I say?” she whispered.

  “Just say hello, and tell her your name.”

  “Hello,” the child called out. “This is Emily.”

  There was a long moment of silence and then the woman said, “Emily? Is that you?”

  “It’s me,” Emily said.

  There was the sound of a lock turning, and then the door opened slowly. A woman stuck her head out and her eyes went right to Emily.

  “It is you.”

  “Hello, Aunt Kathy.”

  “Come here, child,” the woman said. She put her rifle down as Emily rushed into her arms. The woman hugged her tightly, crying. Emily turned her head and directed a puzzled look Clint’s way. He holstered his gun.

  “I’m so glad you’re alive,” the woman said.

  “I’m glad you’re alive, too,” the child said.

  The woman held her at arm’s length and asked, “What happened to your parents?”

  “They left me.”

  “What? They left you behind?”

  “I was sick,” Emily said. “I think they thought I was going to die.”

  “But still,” the woman said, “how could they leave you?”

  Finally, she looked over at Clint.

  “Mr. Adams?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Please,” she said, “come inside.”

  “Thank you,” he said. “You’re not going to shoot at me again, are you?”

  “No,” she said, “I promise I won’t.”

  They went into the house, closing the door behind them. The woman set the rifle aside and turned to face Clint.

  “I’m sorry about the rifle,” she said. “When people started dying, there were looters. I had to fight to keep them out of here.”

  “Did you get sick at all?” he asked.

  “I did,” she said. “I succumbed just before the mass exodus began. I was in bed when they all left.”

  “So was Emily.”

  The woman put her hand on the girl’s head.

  “Poor dear,” she said. “How could her parents leave without knowing for sure if she was alive or dead?”

  “I suppose they panicked.”

  “I guess you’re right. Have the two of you eaten?”

  “We have,” Clint said. “Emily cooked for me over at Flo’s Café. We were actually looking for someplace to spend the night.”

  “Well, stop looking,” she said. “I have plenty of empty beds here.”

  “How does that sound, Emily?” Clint asked.

  “It sounds good to me!”

  Clint looked at the woman. She was in her thirties, very attractive despite looking somewhat bedraggled.

  “Do I keep calling you Aunt Kathy?”

  “My name is Kathleen Logan,” she said. “‘Aunt Kathy’s’ just the name of the boardinghouse, Mr. Adams.”

  “My name is Clint,” he said, “Kathleen.”

  “How about some pie?” she asked Emily.

  “Apple?”

  “Of course.”

  “Yay!”

  “And you, Clint?”

  “With coffee?” he asked.

  “Of course.”

  “Yay!” he said with a grin at Emily.

 
NINE

  They went into the kitchen and Kathy served them their pie with coffee for Clint and hot tea for Emily.

  “I’m sorry, but the milk went bad a long time ago,” she said.

  “That’s something Emily hasn’t been able to tell me, Kathy,” he said. “When did all of this happen?”

  “Oh, it started about six weeks ago. Within two weeks, many people were dead.”

  “Were they burying any of the dead?”

  “Yes,” she said, “there’s a graveyard just outside of town. But soon the people decided to just pull out. They stopped burying people and started packing to leave about three weeks ago. I—I got sick and ended up in bed. I was unconscious when the last of them finally pulled out, probably about a week ago.”

  “Everyone?”

  “I don’t know,” she said. “As I said, I was unconscious in bed.”

  “But when you woke up, they were all gone?”

  “Far as I can tell,” she said. “That was about a week ago.”

  “And you have enough food to just hole up here?”

  “Remember,” she said, “I was running a boardinghouse. I had enough food to feed my guests. Once it was just me, I had plenty.”

  “Well, poor Emily has been scrounging all around town,” Clint said.

  “I’m sorry she didn’t come here sooner,” Kathy said. “I would have taken her in.”

  Emily was eating her pie and not really listening to them.

  “Did anyone die in this house?”

  “One man early on. We were able to bury him. The rest of my boarders got scared and left. So there were no bodies in my house when I woke up—thank God.”

  “Why didn’t you leave when you were able to, Kathy?” he asked.

  “I thought about it,” she said. “But this place is all I have. I—I couldn’t just leave it. Besides, maybe the people will come back.”

  “I doubt it,” Clint said. “In fact, I’m surprised the town isn’t overrun with scavengers now, the smell of death is so pervasive with all the unburied bodies.”

  “Scavengers?” she asked. “You mean . . . looters?”

  “I’m talking about the four-legged kind,” he said, “not to mention buzzards. I assume it’s because most of the bodies are inside.”

  “But . . . what if they do come? Would they try to get inside?”

  “Once they got hungry enough, and brave enough,” Clint said, “probably.”

  “I have noticed the terrible smell,” she said, wrinkling her nose.

  “Bodies lying around for weeks,” Clint said. “I’m surprised the scavengers haven’t been here yet. Are there any other people left in town besides you and Emily?”

  “Not that I know of,” she said. “You think that Emily and I being here has kept the animals out? That they wouldn’t come in while there was somebody in town still alive?”

  “I don’t think so,” Clint said. “Emily is a small child, and you’ve been inside most of the time, right? Haven’t been around town much?”

  “Yes, that’s right.”

  “Then I don’t think your presence alone would keep them away,” he said. “Maybe there are more people around. That would probably do it.” He looked across the table at Emily, who was licking her plate clean.

  “Would you like another slice of pie, Emily?” Kathy asked her.

  “Oh, yes, please.”

  While she cut another slice, Clint said, “Emily, have you seen any other people in town the past few weeks?”

  “Do you mean the men?”

  “What men?” he asked.

  Kathy placed the second slice of pie in front of her and looked at Clint. He shook his head, and she sat back down at the table.

  “The men I hide from.”

  “How many men, Emily?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know. Three or four. When I see them, I hide.”

  Clint wondered what three or four men were still doing around town. It certainly wasn’t burying bodies. Perhaps, as Kathy had said, they were looters.

  “Maybe,” he said, “I should have another look around town.”

  “You can leave Emily with me,” she said.

  “That’s good,” he said. “Is there a livery stable near here?”

  “A couple of blocks.”

  “That’ll have to do,” he said. “I’ll want to bed my horse down properly.”

  “Take your time,” she said. “I’ll enjoy Emily’s company. And yours, when it comes to it.”

  “I’ll take care of my horse tonight,” Clint said, “and do another search around town tomorrow.”

  “What makes you think you might see them tomorrow when you haven’t seen them up to now?” she asked.

  “Up to now,” he told her, “I haven’t been looking for them.”

  TEN

  Clint walked Eclipse to the livery stable. It was clean, with no bodies around. He unsaddled him, brushed and fed him, then bedded him down for the night.

  Clint was about to leave the stable when he noticed some tracks in the dirt. He crouched down to examine them. They’d been made by a man’s boots, and they looked fresh—not that day, but pretty fresh.

  He followed them out the front door, where they mixed with his tracks. He decided not to follow them any farther tonight. In the morning, this was where he’d start.

  He walked back to the boardinghouse, let himself in the unlocked front door, and then locked it. He found them still in the kitchen.

  “Is she still eating pie?” he asked.

  “No,” Kathy said, “we’re just talking.”

  “Well, maybe Emily should be getting to bed,” Clint suggested.

  “I think,” Kathy said, “she needs a bath first.”

  “What?” Emily asked.

  “That sounds like a good idea to me,” Clint said.

  “It wouldn’t hurt you to take one, too,” Kathy added.

  “Yeah,” Emily said, “if I have to take a bath, so do you, Clint.”

  “Sure, little girl,” Clint said. “I’ll take mine right after you take yours and get into bed.”

  “Come on,” Kathy said to Emily, “I’ll help you.” She looked at Clint. “I’ll draw you one later.”

  “Okay.”

  “Have some coffee while you wait.”

  “Suits me,” Clint said.

  After she left the kitchen with Emily, Clint poured himself a cup of coffee, took a look out the back window while he drank it. He could see other houses. He wondered if there were people hiding in any of them, the way Kathy was staying in her house. He’d have to check them out the next day.

  He got impatient waiting for Kathy to come back, so he cut himself another slice of pie.

  • • •

  He was finishing yet another cup of coffee when she came back into the kitchen.

  “Is she down?”

  “She went out right away,” Kathy said, sitting across from him.

  “You look like you’re ready to turn in,” he commented. “It’s still early.”

  “Time hasn’t meant much for a while,” she told him. “I sleep when I’m tired, which is most of the time. By the way, I drew your bath. If you want it while it’s hot, you better go now.”

  “You going to be okay?” he asked.

  “I’ll be fine,” she said. “I’ll clean up in here.”

  “I shouldn’t be long.”

  “I laid out some clean clothes for you.”

  “Husband’s?”

  “Some of my tenants left clothes behind when they ran,” she said. “I guessed at the size.”

  “I’ll let you know if they fit.”

  “Just go down the hall,” she said. “I’ll empty it when you’re done.”

  He walked down the hall, found the room with the
tub. She had folded the clothes and set them on a chair. He stripped down and got into the tub. He sat back and just let the hot water soak in for a while, then picked up the soap and cloth and washed off all the dirt. He had just finished washing his hair when the door opened and Kathy stepped in.

  “Oh,” he said, “I’m almost finished.”

  “That’s okay,” she said. “I just thought I’d check and make sure the water was still hot.”

  “It’s okay,” he said, staring at her.

  “No,” she said, “I better check.”

  She walked over to the tub, leaned over, and put her hand in. That close he could smell her.

  “You know,” she said, swirling the soapy water, “I’ve been lonely for a while. I’ve been missing . . . things.”

  “What things?”

  “Companionship,” she said, “somebody to talk to, maybe somebody to take care of.”

  “I don’t need taking care of,” he said. “But I’m sure Emily does.”

  “Well,” she said, “I didn’t mean that kind of taking care of.”

  “What kind did you mean?”

  She knelt by the tub. The cotton dress she was wearing stuck to her because of the steam in the room from the hot water. He could see her firm breasts, and the outlines of her hard nipples.

  “This kind,” she said. She reached into the water, found his cock, and grasped it. It had already begun to get hard, so it swelled even more in her hand. She began to stroke it up and down.

  “Oh,” he said, “that kind.”

  ELEVEN

  He sat back in the tub while she stroked him with her right hand. With her left hand, she unbuttoned her dress until one breast almost fell out. It was lovely, pale, and round with a hard pink nipple. He reached out with his left hand to cup it, fondle it, weigh it, swipe the nipple with his thumb. She gasped, released him, stood up, and let the dress fall to the floor. Then she stepped into the tub with him. Sat down across from him, with her legs inside his. She pulled her knees up and scooted closer to him so she could reach for him and take him in both hands this time. She stroked his shaft with her right hand, cupped his balls with her left. He leaned forward to kiss her, and her mouth opened beneath his eagerly. He slid his hands around her and pulled her closer to him. She put her legs outside his, and wrapped them around his waist as he pulled her into his lap. Suddenly, just like that, he was inside her, and she gasped.