600 Miles: A Post-Apocalyptic Adventure (12 page)

Chapter 18

We stayed there for a couple of days more, Gitty too hurt to walk. It didn't get any better between me and her. The few times I tried to talk to her she was cold and didn't have too much to say. I even tried making small talk about the ocean like we used to, about what it might be like out there and how wonderful it would be for us.

"I sure hope them stories are true," I told her, boring her yet again.

Maybe things would go back to being normal once her leg was healed and we moved on. It couldn't be far to the ocean now. I was restless. I seemed the only one who was like that, though I couldn't understand why. It was like they just wanted to sit around where we were, doing nothing all day but shooting the occasional rabbit or deer that made the mistake of wandering too close to the camp. I asked Roy about scouting ahead but he didn't think it would be a good idea for me to go alone and said that I should go with Ramiro, just to be safe. I didn't want to, but I didn't want it to seem like there were something I had against that Mexican neither, and so the two of us ended up setting off.

We didn't say much, me and Ramiro, the tension that had been between us only growing now that we was away from Gitty and Roy. I still hadn't told Roy about his speaking English, wondering if it were a secret I was better off keeping to myself, Ramiro probably looking for any reason he could to put a knife in me. Or that hook I mean. He looked at me a few times, something playing on his lips like he were finding humor at my expense. I ignored him as much as I could, pushing through them woods and hoping to find open road again.

It must have been another hour, but finally the trees started thinning and there it was, the same road we'd been traveling before it got swallowed by the woods. To my right rose a high cliff, and up farther to the left was a deep gorge and rocky slopes, the road straight ahead disappearing into a dark, man-made tunnel.

"Finally," I said. "Looks like clear going from here. I wonder if there's anything dangerous in that tunnel though."

Ramiro ignored me. Looking closer at the tunnel, it seemed like there was light coming from the other end, which at least meant it weren't blocked off.

"You think we're close?" I said.

"To the ocean? I think so."

"What's it like? Is it really like they say?"

"How should I know, chico? I've never seen it before."

It was strange that he lived so close yet had never been there, though seeing how little he liked questions I didn't ask why. "Well, let's head back and tell them then," I said.

I jumped as that bullet ricocheted off the pavement, Ramiro throwing himself to the ground. There were more shots, cutting the air as they whizzed by, though I couldn't see where they was coming from.

"Take cover!" Ramiro shouted.

We ran back into the trees, them bullets ripping through the woods until whoever it was had lost sight of us and stopped shooting. Then I saw it, that lone figure hidden in the brush on top of the tunnel, his head bobbing around like he was looking for us until he ducked back down.

"I see the bastard," I said.

"Yeah. He's not moving."

"I'm gonna take a shot."

Ramiro grabbed my arm. "Forget it. You're never going to hit him from this far. Here's the plan. I'm going up. I'll climb the cliff from here where he can't see, then circle around and get him from behind."

"You want to do it, go ahead. Sounds like you're going to get yourself killed for sure."

He just chuckled at me and went, the look in his eye telling me I was useless and that he was going to show me just how it was done. He kicked off his shoes then started up the cliff, the trees still hiding us from view. The rocks looked slick, and I kept waiting for him to suddenly lose hold and fall but he never did. Must have been twenty feet up but he kept going, his wiry muscles flexing like they was iron cords.

Then, as he reached the top and was pulling himself over the edge, a shot rang out. I looked and saw that the man on top of the tunnel had spotted him, another shot peeling off. I couldn't see Ramiro anymore, just the shooter, though as I drew my pistol and took aim I knew he was well out of range.

I ran from the woods, running halfway to the tunnel before the man on top of it spotted me and switched targets. Weren't too many shots he got off on me before I was too far under him for him to see me anymore, at which point he started shooting at Ramiro again. I scrambled up the rocky slope to my right, hoping the wall of the tunnel would cover me until I reached the top, loose rocks tumbling down to the road as I climbed. Them shots from above were still going off every so often, but then I heard what sounded like Ramiro shooting back.

Finally, I reached the top, pulling my pistol out. The man was too busy popping off shots at Ramiro, wherever he was, to notice me. I suddenly stood up and took aim, the surprised look on that old bastard's face kind of funny. Don't sound too good saying it, but I have to admit it were a humorous thing as he let out a little yelp like the boogeyman had just jumped out of the dark, and that's when I plugged him good.

He went down. I hurried over to where he was laying, my pistol ready. At first I thought he were dead but he wasn't, his breathing hard, his pained eyes fixing on me as I stood over him.

"Why were you shooting at us?" I said.

He didn't answer. I heard someone coming and turned to see Ramiro. He stood beside me, the two of us looking down at him together.

"How many times were you going to miss?" Ramiro said.

"Fuck you Mexicans!" the man gasped.

There was a shot and I jumped back and the man squirming on the ground jumped too, only he couldn't move again after that. I looked over and saw the pistol in Ramiro's hand. He just looked at me then walked away, leaving me to go about the dirty business of looting.

I caught up to Ramiro as he was walking back towards the woods, my arms full with the dead man's' rifle and knapsack.

"He ain't had to shoot at us," I said.

"Maybe he did," said Ramiro.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean everyone's got a reason to shoot at somebody nowadays, chico."

"Well I ain't no bandit or nothing and weren't no reason he had to shoot like that."

"Go back and tell him then, though I don't think he's going to hear you so good."

I didn't say nothing after that. This man were a killer, this man who was accustomed to painting his face up and looking like death, waylaying innocent people and all. Who knows what he was guilty of. I could only imagine what he'd done before we knew him. But he'd saved Gitty, that was for sure, though I doubted he'd done it for the sake of doing something good.

We trudged back through the woods, neither one of us talking along the way. It wasn't hard to find our way back, what with the way we'd come plain to see, though it took us some time, our feet sloshing through the mud. 

Finally we were nearly home, if you could call it that. Ramiro was the first one to hear it, that noise, that crying that reached us through the woods and made me drop the stuff I was carrying and run. As I hurried through the trees, it seemed to me it wasn't so much crying as it were whimpering, like she was in some kind of pain.

Gitty!

I ran faster, fearing something awful, and though awful it was, what I saw was worse than anything I might have dreamed. It was Gitty all right, and not just her but Roy too, and he was helping her, and not in the way he'd been helping her before when he was looking at her hurt leg, but
helping
her, or helping himself, Gitty bent over and grabbing onto a tree, Roy grabbing onto Gitty from behind. And Roy—
oh God!
—Roy, he was pushing and pushing, and Gitty, she was pushing and pushing back, her big bottom jiggling from that violent force of flesh hitting flesh, her skirt hitched up so that it were all plain to see.

It was too much. I stood near the edge of the trees shaking, both of them so caught up in what they was doing that they didn't even know I was there. I felt Ramiro beside me, and I looked and he looked at me and then down at the pistol in my hand. I started forward, the scene flooding over me, though it weren't until I was almost upon them that they finally noticed, Roy suddenly letting go of Gitty as he jumped back and almost fell over, his pants caught around his ankles, Gitty crying out as she curled up into a ball and covered herself up, her eyes wide and her lips trembling as she stared.

"Gitty,"
I said.
"Gitty!"

The moments passed, all of us breathing hard, Roy quickly buckling his belt, Gitty gawking at me, that pistol still in my hand.

"Elgin!" she said at last.

"Oh, Gitty!" I cried. "What have you done?"

Weren't no answer, just a lot of staring and shaking, my grip tightening on my pistol as I fought against the only thing there were to do, still hoping something might suddenly be said to explain it all, like anything could ever give it a reason that would make it something other than what it was.

"I'll kill you!" I shouted. The pistol was up now, pointing not at Gitty, but Roy.

"Please, Elgin!" Gitty sobbed.

"I
loved
you, Gitty!"

I pushed that gun in closer to Roy, the muzzle only inches from his face. He didn't flinch, didn't move, Gitty crying for me not to do it, Roy just stone cold waiting for me to shoot. I was trying. My finger started squeezing, my hand sweating, Roy's eyes staring right into mine, the hammer slowly pulling back.

It happened so fast I couldn't even finish squeezing the trigger before the gun flew out of my hand, Roy's arm coming up as quick as lighting and knocking it aside. Then there was a hard fist, then another, nailing me right in the face. I stumbled back, still thinking I could get my hands on my gun, but I couldn't see it on the ground and Roy was all over me, his right hand being all he needed to give me the worst whipping I'd ever known.

I don't know how many times I got hit. The punches kept coming and I never had a hope of fighting back. Gitty was screaming, begging him to stop. I hit the ground, rolling onto my back, the bitter taste of blood in my mouth. I managed to lift my head and saw Roy walk over to pick up my pistol. Then he came back and stood waiting for me, though try as I might I couldn't get up.

I flipped over on my belly and started crawling. Gitty was sobbing. I saw Ramiro watching near the trees. I looked away and kept my eyes fixed straight ahead, the line of tall grass getting closer. When I was near the edge of the clearing I made it to my feet and stumbled into the woods, pushing my way through until I collapsed again in the mud, my breath coming in ragged gasps.

Finally I was far enough away that I couldn't hear Gitty crying no more. I somehow got to my feet and kept going, never once looking back.

Chapter 19

It didn't make no sense. Nothing did. Or it did, but I didn't want to admit that I had already known what was coming. Maybe it was my fault. Maybe it was just a bad time for Gitty on account of her being hurt. Maybe I shouldn't have gone off scouting with Ramiro. Maybe if I had stayed at the camp I could have fixed things so that Gitty would have loved me again and wouldn't have thought about doing what she done with Roy.

But it weren't no use thinking about it. It was gone. Gitty was gone, and with her our dream of being in love and living by the ocean for the rest of our days, though I cried something fierce, and not just for losing her but because of how it all ended, which to my defense would have been hard for any man, no matter how tough he was in fighting or surviving and living hard.

When I reached the tunnel where Ramiro and me had killed that man, I stopped. It was like night in there, the only light being the exit all the way down at the end. I kept going, my legs brushing past all sorts of things, hard and soft, like old junk and dead squishy critters better left unseen. My face was sweating, yet dry and crusty from all the blood. In the dark I touched my nose, and the pain shot through it and I figured it must be broken. My ribs hurt too. And my stomach. Them punches had nailed me hard, but weren't nothing that were going to kill me so I pushed on, making my way to the light ahead.

I came out into daylight, squinting against the harsh sun. I looked at my fingers. There was blood on them. I touched my nose again and it still hurt, just like my ribs and my belly did, and now that I felt it, even my jaw. I almost started crying like I had before but I turned it off. Weren't no good in doing that now. Weren't no way I was going to be like a woman about the whole thing. I grit my teeth, pushing on, remembering for the first time that I didn't even have my pistol anymore. Weren't nothing on me but a pocket knife that I'd found on the man we killed on top of the tunnel. His rifle I had dropped in the woods when I'd heard Gitty's whimpering, along with everything else. I thought about going back to find it, though weren't no way I was going to try. If he saw me, Roy would probably shoot me dead, with my own pistol maybe. And even if he didn't, to ever see any of them again...

No, weren't no going back.

Where was I? How much farther to the ocean? That vision of what I'd seen wouldn't get out of my head. My guts pulled and I felt like throwing up, though it weren't on account of being punched in the belly. I gagged but it was just a dry heave and I kept going, every step I could put between me and them being one I was thankful for.

The sun was setting as I walked down that empty road, surrounded by woods and dry hills and then woods again, everything quiet and peaceful. I was alone again. Why couldn't it have stayed that way? If only I could go back in time. A few months was all I needed. Just one more day staying on in Safford and I never would have run into them strangers with the pickup truck who'd shot at Lucky, my long lost dog. I never would have met Gitty. Or not even a day. Just a few hours dallying somewhere and we would have never passed on the road. But we did, and then I followed them and was captured. And then I killed a man and rescued Gitty.

With no Gitty there wouldn't have been no Roy. We never would have went to that trading post and met him. Or even if we did, if only we'd gone a day later when he was gone. Or if only I'd never talked to him.

The thoughts were driving me crazy. I gave up, knowing that no matter how many ways I could think of little things that could have been different so that things wouldn't be what they were just then, weren't no use in even thinking about it. Everything was what it was, maybe even so for a reason.
Fate
, Pete used to call it, and not just him but a lot of people. Maybe there weren't no escaping it then, that things would have worked out the same no matter what.

Maybe.

I left the road and wandered alongside it for some time, not wanting to run into anybody who might be coming my way. I felt naked not having my pistol, though maybe it were a good thing I didn't or the telling of this might have ended here. There were other ways to do it though: jumping, drowning, maybe even hanging from a rope like that long dead man I'd found. Maybe I could go back to him, that lonely old skellie, that noose still hanging there waiting all these years for me to finally come by.

The grim thoughts of getting rid of myself kept coming, and if it weren't for my sudden discovery I might have found the nearest cliff and jumped. I hadn't walked more than a few miles from the tunnel when I spotted it: that big house sitting on top of the hill, one of them low, rancher style homes, a tattered old American flag still flying in front of it. I wondered at how that flag could still be standing until I saw the figures standing around, though their particulars I couldn't make out.

I went closer, hoping not to be seen. There was two men standing around talking just out front, shotguns or rifles in their hands, and another one who I saw disappear into the house. I snuck up the hill, keeping low, wondering what they'd do if they saw me. Any folks still flying an American flag must have still been civilized, or at least more decent than most. Maybe this were some kind of outpost for good guys, I thought, good old Americans like the ones from yesteryear who were out there making sure anyone traveling along the road were safe. 

Still, I weren't taking no chances. I kept creeping up on them, wanting to get some kind of better idea of who they was. Then one of them turned. He was still pretty far off, though I must have been sticking out of the scenery pretty bad. I cussed, stopping in my tracks, the man pointing me out to his friend, the two of them immediately walking down the hill. I got up and started walking too, quickly heading back towards the road. Then they was running, shouting and hollering as they came.

I took off, running down the hill until my feet hit the pavement. I threw a look back and one of the men, the big fat one, had stopped and was taking aim. A shot rang out, the bullet whizzing by. I heard more shots as I kept running, the road sloping down. One of the men, the skinnier one, was faster than the other. He kept gaining and another shot peeled off, hitting the pavement near my feet. I darted to one side, scrambling up the slope to the right, hoping neither of them still had a clear fix on me. Another shot sounded and I climbed faster, desperate but out of breath, then another one that hit the dirt close to my side.

Finally I reached the top and made for the big rocks I spotted just ahead, it being the only cover I could see around.

"Come on!" I heard one of them shout. "He's up there! I saw him good, the dirty Mexican. Hurry up, Tom!"

I ran, reaching the rocks and ducking behind as one of them fired. Behind me was another slope too steep to climb, and even if it hadn't been, I knew that as soon as I stuck my head up I was dead. I stayed down, frantically wondering if they was coming closer or just standing there waiting for me to pop back up, trapped, nothing but open ground if I chanced running.

"He's there, behind those rocks!" I heard, knowing that they were going to try to flush me out. I wondered how far I could run before they got me, because staying put was certain death. How close they was getting I didn't know and I didn't dare to look. I had to do it then, to chance it and maybe die or do nothing and die anyway, and so I tensed up, drawing a deep breath.

"Get him!"

The bullets started flying as I ran, the rocks protecting my back from the first volley, then more shots whistling by. My legs were pumping as fast as they could as I heard them cussing and shouting, them gunshots cracking, the ground suddenly dropping from under my feet just as I was looking back.

I was tumbling down and down, unable to stop myself from rolling, the rocky slope going on for a long time before finally leveling out. I hit the ground hard, unable to move, laying there on my back with the pain shooting through my body, knowing that if I didn't get up I was dead. Then I realized they weren't chasing me no more. They just stood there on top of the ridge high above, maybe too far away to bother wasting any more bullets. Wincing, I rolled over and pushed myself up, the two of them watching as I limped away.

Eventually I stopped, figuring I was safe, them men nowhere to be seen. My body was now aching not only from the ass whipping Roy had given me, but from my long tumble down the hill. Looking at my arms, I was bruised and a little bloody and it felt like I had sprained my wrist, little pieces of gravel stuck in my flesh. It was a small price to pay for having escaped death though, not once but maybe twice that day.

I walked on, gritting my teeth at the pain, not quite knowing where I was anymore.

West
, the sun told me.
Don't quit now, Elgin.

But why not?

Because you just gotta keep walking.

Why?

Just go.

I weren't crazy. I ain't saying for sure it were the sun saying it, but it was leading me, calling me to the ocean where paradise was waiting. On and on I went, my tired feet refusing to fail, until at last I could see it in the distance, that endless stretch of water that I was looking on for the very first time, and in that moment I forgot about everything else, about the shame and the anger and despair, and I laughed, hooting so loud that all them feelings just scattered to the wind.

It was beautiful, that much was true. The setting sun glimmered off the water so that it looked like a lake of liquid gold, the foamy white waves crashing in, seagulls circling, the crisp ocean breeze cooling my skin, the whole thing as pretty as any picture book I'd ever seen.

Then the happiness suddenly slipped away, thoughts of Gitty coming back to me, the pain hitting me hard as I saw her face and them loving times we'd had together and knew it was supposed to be the two of us looking on what I saw, that beautiful paradise we were supposed to be walking to hand in hand.

I came upon the old deserted highway, so close now, crossing it and finally setting foot on the sand, the waves crashing loudly against the rocks, that strange, briny smell of the ocean unlike anything I'd ever smelled before. Then I saw it, understanding at last what I'd seen from a distance covering the sand, that junk that had been a mystery from afar. There were tons of it all over the place, and even more still washing up onto the shore with every wave, trash and human filth of every kind imaginable. I walked closer to the water's edge, the refuse of an old world crunching under my feet, my heart sinking: glass, crushed tin cans, plastic bottles. I saw an old tire and a rusted steel barrel half-buried in the sand, old shoes, a torn fishing net filled with rotten junk, a plastic fuel tank, bones, dead fish, rubber tubing, the wreckage of an old rowboat, and more bottles, and more bottles, so many of them, tons, not one foot of clean sand, and with the waves now came a horrible smell I can't rightly describe, the whole place a filthy, rusted, reeking grave of old times.

I followed the beach along a little, moving back to the highway just to get away from all that trash, though it never got any better, every filthy mile of that disgusting shoreline looking like the last, the last of my dreams destroyed. When it got dark I kept walking, not wanting to stop no matter how tired my feet were. Where would I go now, I wondered. North? It's the way I was headed. Behind me, if I chose to turn back, was Lost Angeles, but there weren't nothing there no more.

I stopped after a while, unable to go on. I watched the ocean from the highway, the moonlit water looking so beautiful and calm. I wondered where it went, and what might have been on the other side. Somewhere different, somewhere better, I imagined, somewhere where there weren't all the loneliness and broken hearts.

I left the road, laying my head down on the grass as I watched the waves crashing in. They didn't smell so bad from a distance, or maybe they weren't so dirty at nighttime, or maybe I had walked far enough in the dark that everything had gotten clean. I wondered about that as I fell asleep, thinking that maybe when I opened my eyes again and it was light I'd see that paradise I'd dreamed of for so long.