by J. P. Castle
“I was never with Mary Beth in that way, not even close. Your mom asked her to leave your house that night because she knew your dad was in a drunken rage and on his way home. Mary Beth couldn’t get you on your unit, so she called me, asking where you were. She said she needed a ride, that’s it. I was close by, so I picked her up to do you a favor. She’d never been on my bike before that. It sickened me to lose you as a friend.”
“You’re a liar.”
“I’m not, and I don’t want to die without you knowing the truth. Mary Beth loved you, that’s the last thing she said before she died. I did everything I could to help her, but her injuries were . . . beyond hope. I didn’t wreck my bike. We weren’t speeding. There had to be damage to your dad’s truck, as hard as he hit us. I’m gonna let you up now. Please, stop fighting me.”
Ledger had no words, he stood up and hastened away.
Bastian decided to let him go, take some space. He buried the soldier’s dog tags further away in the farmer’s field. Before returning to join the others, he peered up at the sky, “I could use a little help down here if You’re listening up there.”
No one else in the group knew of the physical exchange between them. Ledger disappeared into a quiet room upstairs for the remainder of the evening. He laid on the bed and studied out the window.
Manslaughter by drunk driving. How could you do that? To me, my best friend, and my girlfriend. Hide a secret so huge. Allow me to believe my friend killed Mary Beth. To not own what you did and destroy the only thing I valued after my brother died . . . my friendship with Bastian.
I always accepted the fact that you weren’t a perfect father. I tried to understand that my brother’s death destroyed you inside. I tried to be a good son and stay out of the way. Accept it when you hit me a little too hard, or shoved mom around.
You’ve disappointed me many times, like the time you killed my dog as a punishment. Or the many times you left me sitting, waiting in the cold school parking lot when you didn’t pick me up. Or when we went hungry because you drank your paycheck. Even with all that, I never imagined you could disappoint me like this.
I’m crushed inside, totally betrayed. You told me it was Bastian’s fault. You told me I was stupid and hit me. You knew exactly what you did. Now, you’re not even here to confront. Mary Beth would still be alive if it weren’t for you. I loved her. I’ve lost all respect for you, not that I had any anyway.
Ledger rarely cried, but he shed a few tears into the feather pillow he rested on. The displaced hatred for Bastian had been such wasted time. The reorganization of emotions weighed heavily on his mind. In the middle of his private moment, a light tap came at the door.
“Ledger, it’s me, I brought you up some soup,” said Troian, unaware of the confrontation. “Can I come in?”
Ledger wiped his face. “Yeah, sure,” he said, raising himself up to a sitting position.
Troian noticed his red face and sat the soup on the night table. “What happened to you?”
“Nothing, a minor misunderstanding between Bastian and me. It’s fine now. Don’t mention it to the others. They don’t need to be in the middle of our business.”
“I won’t, but I’m here if you wanna talk,” said Troian, touching his shoulder.
“I appreciate that Troian, tomorrow’s another day, the past is gone. Bastian and I opened up an old wound between us. I’m glad we cleared the air; I can concentrate on helping him better now, without anger toward him. We need to focus on survival, and that’s exactly what we’re gonna do.”
Troian left the room and joined the other girls outside to help. Lumen, Mazel, Rani, and Youlie finished cleaning up the bloody mess inside of the R.V. They used buckets, rags, and a mop they found down in the cellar. It took several hours to get all of the blood spatter off the walls, dinette, windows, and floor.
The guys picked up rubbish from the farmer’s yard to occupy their minds. The farmer allowed the group to stay the night. Pure elation filled each person when their turn came to enjoy the warm fresh shower in the farmer’s oversized bathroom. A treasure they’d all taken for granted daily, until now.
BABY BLUES
“THANK YOU AGAIN, friend, for all of your kind generosity. Have no idea what we would’ve done without you. I hope to find you on the other side of this life,” said Mr. McCrady. He shook the farmer’s hand as the group prepared to leave.
“I’ll see you up there, no doubt about it. Safe travels along your journey,” said the old farmer, tapping his forehead once in a half salute.
“If you hear any news at all about a vaccine for a virus called Red Fang, don’t get it. Trust me. Don’t get it,” said Mr. McCrady.
“Will do,” he said, returning to the inside of his house.
Bastian and Ledger placed Caleb, unconscious, into the bed in the back of the R.V. Bryce had nursed him through the night, keeping him as hydrated as she could through minor bouts of moaning.
“We’re about seven hours outside of Chicago. Let’s hit it,” said Bastian.
The group disembarked without delay; debris littered the interstate. Drivers carefully navigated around it. Amir had updated Bastian on the weather earlier that morning, today’s forecast included rain and thunderstorms, no tornadoes.
They’d all witnessed the destruction the F3 tornado had left in its wake. Crumbled houses, fences twisted into braided ropes, and plenty of totaled cars, to name a few. Row after row of wind turbines were wrenched over like wilted dandelions. The torn off blades resembled giant throwing knives sticking out of the fields.
Bastian wanted to clear out of this area. Emergency crews would soon be on the way to start repairs in this upheaval of a mess. After yesterday’s incidents, he surely hoped for a quiet, uneventful day. So far, no other traffic cluttered the road, and all remained calm.
A few miles later, debris became more cumbersome. An overturned semi lost its load of lumber. Other abandoned vehicles were strewn about and flipped onto their sides, some even sat one upon the other.
“Look at that,” said Rani, who’d been surprisingly silent most of the morning.
Up ahead, a small vehicle laid in a grassy ditch about three feet deep. A six-inch stream of water flowed beneath the undercarriage. None of that surprised anyone, given the circumstances. The shock came when they noticed people in the car, sitting oddly still.
Bastian slowed down the caravan, hit his brakes, and came to a complete stop. Everyone took a moment to inspect the scene. The driver sat slumped over the wheel; his passenger modeled the same position.
“We can’t pass them by,” said Rani, “they’re in bad shape.”
Bastian glanced back at Ledger, who read the expression on his face. It spelled—frustrated. Both exited the SUV and walked over to the smashed-up car.
“It’s not that I don’t want to help, man,” said Bastian.
“No need to explain dude, I totally get it. We’ve already got our hands full,” said Ledger.
The caved-in roof and the grass burrowed into the rims, supplied proof the vehicle had rolled at least once, then righted itself. Bastian hesitantly reached in to check the driver’s pulse. His neck, unusually cold to the touch, was discolored, matching the bluish tint on his face.
“He’s dead,” said Bastian.
“So is she,” said Ledger. The woman in the passenger seat presented with an open skull fracture. Ledger presumed that’s what shattered the side window and left bloodstains on the roof. Either way, the impact had killed her. “Um, Bastian . . .”
“What?”
“There’s a car seat back here.” Ledger couldn’t get the crushed door open. He climbed through the back glass to find two big brown eyes staring back at him.
A baby boy, who started crying at the unfamiliar face.
“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me right now,” said Bastian.
“Why did he climb inside the vehicle?” said Rani, watching from the passenger seat in the SUV.
“We can’t leave
him here, man,” said Ledger.
“I know, I know. Believe me, I know,” said Bastian. He rubbed his hair back ‘n forth, then raised his head to the sky, “Really . . . seriously.” I’m starting to struggle with my sanity here. “Get him out of there, and let’s go.”
Ledger managed to free the infant whose wails could deafen anyone within a country mile.
“Hand him to me,” said Bastian, taking the crying baby. “Can you get the car seat out? Is there a diaper bag?”
Ledger managed to wriggle the car seat through the back window. A bag laid on the floor decorated in a colorful pattern of bears. He snatched it, too.
“Oh my gosh, they’ve got a baby,” said Troian in shock.
Bastian opened Rani’s door. “Here hold him,” he said.
“Um, no, no, no, Bashy, I don’t do babies . . . no babies for Rani,” she said, leaning backward away from the infant with her hands in the air.
“Rani,” he snapped, “I’m not in the mood for your shit right now. TAKE HIM. HERE.” Bastian handed off the baby and closed the door with enough force to blow Rani’s hair back.
“That was RUDE,” hissed Rani, watching him stomp back around to the driver’s side.
Troian wanted to burst into a laugh, but in the heat of the moment, she chose to laugh internally. No need to add fuel to this raging fire. Ledger grinned at Troian as he climbed back in to sit beside her.
“His parents are dead. What else can we do with him? He’ll die in the vaccine roundups if we don’t take him. As bad as I DON’T want an orphaned infant right now, we have no moral choice,” said Bastian stressed to the max and trying to talk over the displeased infant. “SO MUCH FOR THE QUIET, UNEVENTFUL MORNING THAT I’D HOPED FOR. NO, NO, that would’ve been WAYYY too easy,” he said in an even more aggravated tone.
The infant bawled its head off on Rani’s lap—she nearly joined him.
“Hang tight, Rani, I’m trying to hook up this seat,” said Ledger in the third-row area of the SUV.
“I’m checking for a bottle in this bag too, Rani,” said Troian. “It’s hard to say how long it’s been since he’s eaten.”
Ledger hooked the seat into place. Troian found some ready-to-use formula, a diaper, and some wipes.
Bastian’s wrist-unit buzzed.
“Did I just see you with a baby?” said Mr. McCrady.
“Yes, his parents are dead. Tell the others we have a new guest now that’s about six months old, with an excellent set of lungs. We can’t take him to a shelter. Me ‘n Ledger rescued him from the wreckage. There isn’t time right now for us to bury the parents; I’m sure cleanup crews are on the way. They can deal with that. I’m not trying to be disrespectful, but I’m sure his parents would prefer us to save him, versus us giving him over to a bunch of murderers. I feel bad about that, but we have to get clear of here.”
“If I ever would’ve been blessed with a son, Bastian, I would’ve wanted him to be exactly like you. I’m sure the baby’s parents would both understand and agree with your decision. You did the right thing. I’ll tell the others,” said Mr. McCrady.
They disconnected. Mr. McCrady’s words touched Bastian so deeply, a lump swelled up in his throat. He pretended to sneeze, then wiped the corner of his eye. No one noticed his moment of weakness.
“Hush little baby, hush little baby. Uh . . . what’s the rest? Hush little baby . . .” Rani tried desperately to soothe the wailing infant.
The baby took one look at Rani, arched his back in total protest, then proceeded to cry even louder than before. Bastian held his pounding head, watching her try in vain to perform a skill that came naturally to most females—the ability to comfort another, especially a child.
“Shit, man,” he said, “I almost wish I would’ve gotten the vaccine myself.”
Troian and Ledger could no longer contain themselves. They burst into uncontrollable laughter at the same time. Watching Bastian turn from a man of steel to an earthly human for a brief second—followed by Rani’s handling of her first taste of motherhood—made it utterly impossible to keep a straight face.
“Here, Rani, here, give him to me,” said Troian, taking the infant.
She searched his tiny body for injuries, front and back, carefully lifting each arm and leg. The baby seemed healthy enough, other than a soaked diaper and an empty stomach. Troian laid him across Ledger’s lap. He steadied the little squirmer while she changed his diaper and prepared a bottle. He ate well, burped a couple of times, then went to sleep. Ledger put him into the car seat for safety.
A couple of hours passed by without a problem. Bastian quietly tried to plan ahead for the group. He felt partially responsible in his own way, due to his dad’s involvement. For sure, he didn’t want to make the wrong decision and get anyone hurt.
More settled now, he reached over to hold Rani’s hand, “I’m sorry I snapped at you earlier.”
Rani wanted no part of his attempt at an apology. She pulled her hand away and crossed her arms.
Troian made big eyes at Ledger, which replaced a laugh. Oh, the wrath of Rani. Sorry Bastian, but you won’t be free from that faux pas until Rani metes out some futile punishment.
Bastian hung his left arm out the window, stiffened his lip, and drove on down the road.
“There’s a sign for a charge station. Ledger, tell everyone we’re gonna stop, charge up, eat, ‘n whatever for about an hour,” said Bastian.
“I’m on it.”
A brief time later, they arrived at the station. Everyone peeked in to say ‘hello’ to the new addition.
“That is the last thing we needed right now,” said Mr. McCrady privately to Bastian.
“You’re telling me,” said Bastian, stepping over to Troian. “Here take this cash, go get some supplies. Put your hair up ‘n wear a hat. Take someone with you. Get whatever we ‘n this baby might need.”
“Do you need any particular items, Bastian?”
“Water ‘n a sandwich, no tuna. Hey, Troian,” he said.
Troian, two feet away, turned back to face him.
“Thanks for asking. If it were up to Rani, I’d starve. I guarantee you she’s sittin’ in there right now, waiting for me to bring her lunch. She’d have me down in the gallows if she could.”
Troian giggled, “No worries, I’ve got your back.”
Youlie accompanied her inside. They came out with a cart full of water, baby supplies, food, snacks, other items, and a camera they needed for the I.D.s.
The group pulled out, off again, into the fray.
“About four more hours, we’ll be in Chicago,” said Bastian. “Ledger, call Amir, ask him to find us a campground.”
“Yep.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
Chicago, Illinois
THE EXHAUSTED GROUP settled in at Camp Bullfrog Lake, enjoying the warmer weather in Chicago, compared to Wyoming. People laid back, ready for some solid rest. Several decided to sleep in their tents. Everyone cared for the baby. The baby with no name.
“What are we gonna call you?” said Troian.
“Hmmm, what do you think?” said Youlie.
“I’m open to suggestions.”
“How about Ed, Eddie, Ezra . . .” said Youlie.
“What about Ezra?” said Troian.
“Ezra sounds awesome. Did you hear that little baby? Your new name is, Ezra,” said Youlie with a smile.
Everyone nodded in agreement.
The new baby would need identification papers, too. Tired or not, someone needed to take the photos. One by one, each person went to Amir, who snapped their picture. After he finished the task, he handed off the camera to Troian.
“You’re tired, I am too, but we need to find your friend tonight to get these I.D.s. Are you up for it?” said Bastian. “GPS says it’s about thirty-five minutes from here.”
“Yeah, I’m ready whenever you are,” said Troian.
“Rani, I’ll be back as soon as I can,” said Bastian.
“Mmm hmmm,” she rep
lied, twirling a strand of her hair.
“Ledger, call me if there’s trouble. You have Joaquin ‘n Mateo here for backup, too,” said Bastian.
“You want me to come with you?” said Ledger.
“Nah, I think it’ll be uneventful, but keep your unit handy.”
Bastian and Troian climbed into the SUV. She stole a peek at Bastian’s powerful leg muscles and turned her head to blush. Excitement raced through her body, followed by a feeling of guilt. She knew she should be in mourning over her parents, but tried to reason with the thoughts in her head. As bad as it sounds to even contemplate in my brain, I can grieve later. I’ve got the rest of my life to grieve, right?
The number of times she’d dreamed of being alone with Bastian Ballentine—countless. Of course, in her mind, the dream occurred in an entirely different setting. One that didn’t include driving down into the hood of Chicago, but she’d take it anyway.
Act casual . . . try to relax. Here I am, sitting in Rani’s seat. Oh my gosh, think of something to say. Don’t sound stupid. Can he see my heart racing? Breathe steady. No longer able to manage the silence, she nearly spoke, but Bastian beat her to it.
“Have you ever met this guy in person?” he said.
“Only once. My brother’s in the military, that’s where they met. He brought Jay home a few times during their furloughs, other than that, I don’t know much about him.”
“This is a lot of money. We really don’t have a choice, though. I appreciate you speaking up about him. Let’s hope he’s legit.”
“Yeah, I agree, we’re in a tough spot. We need birth papers for baby Ezra, too, or . . . what are we gonna do with him?”
Bastian tapped on the steering wheel—contemplating. “Between me ‘n you . . . we don’t need a baby to complicate things further right now, not at all. But how could we sleep at night if we left him behind? I’d never have done that. And we can’t hand him over. So, whose fake last name are we gonna put on his birth papers?”