She laughed. “There might be, but we have plenty of food already so let’s not take a chance.”
She peered through the glass of the Accord’s driver’s window. No bodies, living or dead. She tested the handle, found it unlocked, and opened the door. A minute later she located a release lever, pulled it, then inserted the hose into the tank. Next came the part she was dreading because some of it would escape into her mouth.
It did, and was as disgusting as she’d imagined it would be.
“Ha! You should see your face! Does it taste bad?”
She spit for a half-minute while holding her thumb over the open end of the hose.
“Yes, it’s horrible. I need you to take one of the lighters and try to set fire to the gas that spilled on the ground.”
“You got it!”
He acted like he felt better and seemed to bask in the glory of being assigned such an important task. Maybe he had been paying attention after all.
Much to Julia’s relief, the small puddle burst into flame. Hopefully there was enough gasoline in the Accord to justify the revolting taste in her mouth.
“Can I please go check the store? There might be other stuff in there we could use. I did this all the time when I was by myself.”
He was right, of course. Why in the world was she being so overprotective with this young man who had survived quite well on his own for the past year?
“Sure. Go ahead.” She stopped herself from adding a litany of warnings. Even though he was childlike, he wasn’t a child.
He darted off and stayed gone the entire time she loaded two of her five-gallon tanks. Ten gallons was worth the taste in her mouth. Now that she knew just how bad it was, she would dread it even more the next time.
When he strolled back to the Rover, he wore a satisfied expression and the pockets of his jeans were bulging.
“Find any Twinkies?”
“No, but I found some other good stuff.” He seemed reluctant to share more and Julia decided not to push it. He was an odd one for sure, but the same had been said about her over the years.
“We got ten gallons, which is good. But we’re going to need more soon.” She spat one last time before climbing behind the wheel. Logan slid into the passenger seat, watching her facial contortions with interest.
“If you want me to suck the gas next time, I will.”
“It’s really awful. I can’t ask you to do that.”
“I don’t think it will bother me as much as it bothers you. I don’t mind, really.”
She glanced at the young man, gauging his sincerity, while relief flooded over her. She relished the thought of never having that taste in her mouth again.
“That would be wonderful. Maybe we could take turns?”
“Whatever you say, Julia. But I know I won’t mind. If you don’t want to take a turn, that’s okay.”
“Let’s see if you still feel that way after you’ve done it the first time.”
He grinned and nodded.
Moments later they were back on the highway driving with the windows down because of the fumes.
“I think you must have found something good back there, even though you didn’t find Twinkies.”
A grubby hand crept into one of the jeans pockets and withdrew a Snickers bar, then a second one. It had been a long time since she’d eaten candy, and she had a particular weakness for Snickers bars.
“Oh, nice score!”
“Would you like one? There were just two. I found them in the back of the store.”
What was the shelf life of milk chocolate, caramel, peanuts, and the mysterious substance known as nougat? She didn’t know and didn’t care. It tasted stale and delicious.
“Anything else?”
“I was hoping to find some string to make you a prettier bracelet, but they didn’t have any.”
“That’s okay. The one you made for me looks very nice.”
He frowned and didn’t respond. She could see him struggling with something, a concept that was difficult to articulate.
She waited.
“I need to find purple string and just a little bit of green. Those are your colors.”
“I love those colors! How did you know?”
“Because those are the colors that I see around you most of the time. Especially purple, but sometimes green too.”
Interesting, she thought. As a scientist, she was disinclined to believe in such things as auras, but as an open-minded person, she knew there were many mysteries still in the world because science had yet to discover ways to explain them. An aura was said to be a person’s electromagnetic energy, which some individuals claimed they could see. Bio electromagnetics was an actual field of study, so perhaps those people were seeing something. It was a fascinating notion. She’d always been interested in fringe subjects — psychic phenomena, ghosts, extraterrestrials — but had never revealed these interests to her peers at Stanford. She’d had her reputation to consider and brilliant scientists could be surprisingly childish. It wasn’t completely implausible that a savant, as she suspected Logan to be, might also possess other abilities beyond the norm.
“Do you see colors around everyone?”
He pondered the question, studying the ceiling of the SUV which was his habit when wrestling with a complex thought.
“Not all the time. Not everyone’s are as bright as yours, and it’s hard to see them unless I really think about it. A lot of the people I saw back home after everyone else died just had black and gray around them. My mom was a yellow. The bracelets I made for her always had yellow in them so they would match her.”
“Ah, I see now about the bracelets. Can you see your own colors? Like when you stand in front of a mirror?”
“No. I don’t think it works that way. I thought I saw something once when I looked in the mirror. Something sort of around the edges, but it was fuzzy and it made me feel bad, so I stopped looking.”
“Well, if it made you feel bad then that was the right decision. I hope you don’t always feel that way when you look at yourself. You’re a handsome young man, you know.”
They were making good time on the state highway and soon they would intersect with I70, which filled her with cautious excitement. It would be the road that carried her to safety, providing everything had gone according to plan on Steven’s end. At this rate and barring any unforeseen issues, they would arrive in Liberty in several days.
“Thank you, Julia. My mom said that too, but I figured she did just because, you know, moms say that kind of stuff. Girls don’t really like me. I think they think I’m weird.”
She could imagine the cruelty he must have endured as a good-looking but mentally challenged boy. Girls would have been drawn to him because of his appearance, then once they discovered his intellectual limitations, they would have lashed out from embarrassment. It must have been difficult for him. Teenage females could be such bitches.
“Well, I don’t think you’re weird,” she half-lied. “I think you’re sweet and funny and talented. Those are all qualities to be proud of.”
“Thank you. I think you are too. Plus you’re really smart, and you have magic.”
She sighed.
###
Another car was up ahead and Julia said they would check it for gas. She was always worried about getting more. Logan thought that was funny because he’d done okay without gas and a car for the past year. Still, he was enjoying the drive. They were making-good-time, and even though the cat still hissed a lot, he thought Julia liked him. It felt good because not many people did. Just his mother and Mr. Cheney next door, who taught him stuff, like popping-the-clutch that time, and also how to tie knots and how smart it was to always carry duct tape. Duct tape was good for everything, which is why when he found a pink-colored mini roll of it back at the Shell station, he’d stuck it in his pocket. He didn’t tell Julia about it because the Bad Thoughts said he shouldn’t, plus it was fun to have secrets.
Julia was nice, but she di
dn’t need to know everything. He also hadn’t told her about the little man who had been hiding in the back where the Snickers bars were. He had a gun that he tried to point at Logan, but his hands were shaky and he was slow. It was disappointing that there were no Twinkies, but that’s not why he’d killed the little man. He’d killed him because he wanted to know how it felt to choke the life out of someone with his own hands, which he thought would feel different than shooting them from a distance. The Bad Thoughts agreed it was a good idea, so he’d done it. He was strong even though his shoulder still hurt, and the little man was old, so it hadn’t been hard to hold him down and squeeze his wrinkled throat until his eyes bulged and his tongue stuck out. Logan had laughed at that. It made him think of that Simpsons cartoon where Homer always choked Bart. Bart never died from the chokings but the little man sure did. It also reminded him of the time he’d done the same thing to a classmate’s hamster in the eighth grade. The eye-bulging part was so funny.
Logan decided he liked the way it made him feel. He was very good with his guns and enjoyed seeing blood fly out of animals and people when he shot them, but the feeling of having his strong hands around the skinny throat of the little man, and slowly...ever so slowly...squeezing the breath out of him, was the neatest thing he’d ever done. He hoped he would get the chance to do it again soon. The little man must have had some magic because he’d been able to see Logan, but it hadn’t been strong enough to save him.
When they stopped behind a car that was parked on the side of the road, he wondered again how strong Julia’s magic was. She said she would let him suck the gas this time and he thought that might be fun, although not as fun as the little man. He liked making her smile, just as he’d liked making his mom smile. But he also knew he had to be careful. He knew he shouldn’t tell her that he enjoyed killing things...he’d hidden this fact from his mom too. He’d also hidden his drawing pad from his mom, except for those first few pictures. He’d told her he was bored with drawing, but that wasn’t true at all.
He had been careful not to let her know about the cats and dogs that went missing in the neighborhoods where they lived because it would upset her. For that same reason, and because Mr. Cheney had said he should, he’d hidden his well-used drawing pad under a lot of junk in a bottom drawer. His mom never looked in that drawer.
He figured he should keep it hidden from Julia too, even though he was pretty proud of those drawings. Mr. Cheney loved them. He’d said that he and Logan ‘had similar urges,’ which Logan thought meant they both enjoyed killing things. He missed Mr. Cheney too, but he felt that part of Mr. Cheney was still with him.
Chapter 34
Liberty, Kansas
While a gathering of townspeople helped unload the building materials in the square, Steven decided to broach the subject of the enslaved women in Hays. Reactions were varied and heated.
Natalie had refused to make eye contact with him since the incident in his bedroom the night before. He sensed a slow-boil anger lurking beneath the cool demeanor. It was understandable; he’d had sex with her then promptly kicked her out of his house. Even though he’d been justified, he felt guilty. She and her daughter had been hungry. Yes, she’d manipulated the mob to get to his supplies and almost gotten him killed in the process, but who could blame her? Wouldn’t he commit far worse acts to feed his son?
“I don’t mean to sound heartless,” Natalie said in that reasonable, crowd-calming way, “But we can barely provide for our own people. If we take on more mouths to feed, everyone will have to go with less, or even without, depending on how long our current provisions last.” Her glance in Steven’s direction didn’t reach his face. “We don’t even know if those women are truly prisoners. Perhaps they’re just enterprising females utilizing the barter system. Goods for services, you know. Some might find that’s an easier life than grubbing in a garden or conducting dangerous forays to acquire food.”
Chuck’s snort was derisive and bitter. “Seriously, Natalie? Leave it to you to put a positive spin on a bunch of assholes raping women.”
The crowd had burgeoned at this point to include most of Liberty’s tiny population. She shot him a poisonous look.
“Even if that’s true, and I’m not saying it is, the issue is the danger,” she continued. “It’s likely our own people will get hurt or killed in the process of rescuing these strangers. Why would we take that chance?”
Her words were met with a smattering of applause.
Steven kept his mouth shut. She had a point. He’d voiced a similar notion to Jeffrey that morning.
“You are one cold bitch, Natalie,” Chuck replied. “What if Brittany were one of those women? How would you feel then?”
“But she’s not. They’re strangers. Why risk life and limb for people we don’t even know?” Her tone was calm and judicious even in the face of his insult, scoring additional points from the onlookers.
A musical voice came from the back. One Steven recognized immediately.
“They’re not prostituting themselves, if that’s what you mean.”
The crooked smile was gone from the face of Liberty’s newest resident, replaced by a grimness which was at odds with the gentle nature he had sensed earlier.
“And who are you?”
“I’m Lisa. I just moved here.” People stepped aside as she walked toward Natalie.
“Oh, I see. You’re a stranger with an opinion about whether we should put ourselves in jeopardy for other strangers.”
“I didn’t say that. I said they weren’t prostituting themselves.”
“And how do you know that?”
“Because a week ago I spoke to a woman who had just left there. She mentioned armed guards and chains. That doesn’t sound like any barter system I’ve ever heard of.”
Steven interjected. “Everybody, Lisa has just moved to town. She is a horticultural scientist, so she’ll be of enormous help getting our community garden off the ground.”
A few ‘welcomes’ came from the townspeople but the general focus was not to be shifted so easily from the topic of the Hays women.
“Even if what you’re saying is true...” Natalie began.
“It is. I’m no liar.” The brown eyes flashed but the lovely voice remained steady. Ed, who had edged his way through the packed bodies to stand next to her, hadn’t said a word. His body language conveyed a protective instinct; Steven was relieved that he didn’t try to insert himself into the discussion. If he had, it just might have been the end of his would-be romance with his new neighbor before it had even gotten off the ground.
“Be that as it may, it doesn’t change anything. We simply cannot afford injury or death of our own to save others. In case you haven’t realized it, the world is no longer the cakewalk it used to be. Civilization is hanging by a thread. We have a chance to do something here in our own town that could mean the very continuance of humanity. If there’s any risk to our citizens, it should be in endeavors which benefit us. We are not the world’s saviors.”
There was more than a smattering of applause this time. Steven had to admit, Natalie was damn good at oratory. And he also had to admit, grudgingly, that he tended to agree with her. At least about this.
“You’re right,” Lisa said. “Everyone can’t be saved. But it seems to me that a few women in a nearby town who are being kept captive for the purpose of rape would qualify as worth saving.”
“We certainly have a conundrum, don’t we?”
Steven searched for the speaker. Liberty’s former librarian maneuvered through the onlookers without grace or finesse but with the quiet dignity he had recently come to appreciate. Three very different women stood in the center of the crowd now, all assuming diverse postures and expressions.
Marilyn continued, “There is no wrong or right answer. The dilemma is not complicated, but the effects of our decision have far-reaching implications. Like a stone tossed into a pond, the ripples or repercussions of our behavior now will affect our future la
ter. We are in the infancy of this venture...the formation of a cooperative community in which everyone will have a voice...where we all contribute and reap the rewards equally. These are bold plans we’ve made. If only we had a producing vineyard, it might be a paradise. Alas, our soil isn’t suited for grapes, but perhaps if we play our cards right, there will someday be bathtub gin and hard apple cider.”
A wave of laughter passed through the gathering, diminishing the tension. Good. Clear heads meant better judgment. Steven watched the woman talk, her elegant prose had captivated everyone, himself included.
The smile came then, transforming the plain features into something that almost rivaled the beauty of the women next to her. “What path shall we take? Down which road will our fledgling community travel? The one where we make smart, detached, clinical decisions based on threat assessment and risk-reward ratios? Or the one where we do the right thing because we know in our hearts it is wrong to let people suffer in bondage if there is something we can do about it? Both sides of the argument are compelling, but even more important is understanding that the decision we make now, on this slippery slope, will establish the fundamental nature of our future society. Once we set sail, it will be difficult to change course.”
“Wise words, Marilyn,” Natalie said loudly, shifting the attention back to herself. “I for one would like to live in a world where sense and reason prevail. I say we put it to a vote.”
Lisa turned her back and walked away in disgust. Ed scurried to follow.
“Maybe people would like to think about it, Natalie,” Steven said from the tailgate of the Ram pickup where he’d been sitting. “I know I would.”
This time her gray eyes bored directly into his; he almost reeled backward from what he saw there.
“Fine. Let’s meet back at this time tomorrow, people.”
The crowd dispersed, leaving just the construction volunteers: six young people who were still healthy and capable of hard physical labor.
Steven sighed as he watched their new foreman struggling to keep up with an agitated, bobbing blond ponytail a block away.
Troop of Shadows Page 25