600 Miles: A Post-Apocalyptic Adventure (6 page)

Chapter 11

The next morning we left our hiding place and it was nice and sunny and there weren't no one but us outside, Roy looking around until he discovered we was near a street called Highland Boulevard, one way leading back into nothing but more city, though looking the other way we saw green hills that couldn't have been more than a few miles away. We hadn't seen them the night before, as dark as it was, but now they was clear ahead of us and would be our escape from the city and the danger that was no doubt still creeping around somewhere nearby.

Things started to look worse the farther we went, like the whole place had once been on fire long ago, the buildings all black and hollowed out, twisted metal and melted tires and big chunks of the black rubble that had fallen from the burning buildings littering the ground. Weren't nothing special though. I'd seen plenty of places just like it, places where men had fought in desperate last stands against the tanks and guns and flying machines of their own government, everyone having been so poor and angry for so long, the whole country going up like dry tinder after the first few cries of "liberty" had been heard. So went the story at least, though weren't no way of knowing for sure. Not too much else I knew about it, or about who had won, though judging by the way things looked nowadays I'd say it weren't nobody.

"So is Lost Angeles what you were expecting?" I asked Roy.

"No," he said. "But then, maybe so."

"Ain't all of Lost Angeles we're seeing," I said. "Surely there must be more to it than this."

"It's a big city. Or was. It goes on for miles."

"There must have been so many people living here," Gitty said.

"There were. Millions, now all forgotten."

"How sad."

"Sad? Necessary, I'd say. Seems like there were just too many people in the world, most of them probably not much different than the savages still living here today. Fortunately, God had a way of wiping the slate clean, just like he'd done so many times before."

Gitty looked at him confused then looked at me, but weren't nothing to say. I kept quiet, figuring maybe it was just some more spooky book-reading talk like old Pete used to try to scare me with, though even Pete had never said anything quite so cold.

Suddenly there was a wild shout behind us, like Roy had conjured it up with his creepy words.

"Move!" he said.

There were a whole lot of them filling up the street, even more than before, yelling things I couldn't understand as they came running, pipes and knives and sweaty half-naked bodies glistening in the sun.

We ran down the street, Gitty struggling to keep up, those Mexicans gaining on us fast.

"We ain't gonna outrun them!" I shouted. Roy didn't hear me, or if he did he didn't care, already a good ways ahead of us and not slowing, those howling madmen closer every time I looked back. It was either turn and face them or have them cut us down from behind. Soon they was so close that I could hear their feet hitting the pavement, and that's when I stopped, whipping out my gun.

The first shot was a good one, plugging one of them devils right in the chest. Then another shot, then another, all fired as quick as I could get them off. Out of six shots I only dropped two, though my shooting had finally caused some of the others to take cover, this bunch not as brave as the first. Gitty appeared right beside me, dropping one more with her rifle as I fumbled for more bullets, my shaky hands struggling to reload.

They was charging again, regaining their courage now that the rest of their number had caught up. "Run, Gitty!" I yelled, knowing that there were just too many to fight off. My pistol came up right as one of them snarling fiends appeared right in front of me, blood splattering my face as I shot him point blank in the eyes. Another one was on me in the same moment, swinging a tire iron that came inches from cracking open my skull.

Suddenly there was more shots from behind me—
BAM, BAM, BAM!
—steady and unwavering. I turned to see Roy standing there, his pistol flashing in the sun as every one of those bullets he let loose found its mark, half-naked Mexican warriors dropping like flies. Only one of them managed to get close enough, and him Roy plugged right in the head, my .357 knocking down one more who was running away, the others, seeing so many of their number die, quickly vanishing back into the ruins.

We was all worked up, sweating and puffing, especially me and Gitty, Roy seeming a lot more calm.

"Well, hell!" I said. "Was that the goddamn Alamo or what? I thought we was goners for sure!"

"
Were
, Elgin! You thought we
were
goners!"

"Oh damn it, Gitty! Ain't no time to be correcting me. Can't you see how shook up I am?"

"Damn it, and I ain't?"

She was, even more than me. Her hands was shaking so bad that I took her rifle and she threw her arms around my neck, grateful that we was alive.

"They must have been looking for us all night," Roy said, his eyes still searching up the street.

"How many more of them you think there are? I mean, damn, so many dead."

"I don't know, but let's not wait here to find out."

We hurried up, leaving all them corpses and continuing up the street that led us in the direction of those green hills, always expecting to see more of them Mexicans coming for us, though no doubt we'd licked them good. After a couple of blocks, straight ahead I could see an old cathedral, just as lonely and crumbled down as everything else, one of its walls laying on the street in heaps of broken rubble, though its fancy white tower, taller than any building around it, still rose high.

We passed the cathedral, the bottom of the hills thick with greenery, the woods having taken over one side of the street and breaking up the road, houses buried way back in a tangle of trees and thickets, some of them half covered with vines.

"Looks like we're home free," I said. "Ain't no way they's—I mean, no way they're going to find us now."

I pushed my way through the bushes and low-hanging branches that blocked our way, telling Gitty to calm down when she warned me not to be making so much noise. We skirted around the hills to see where things went, not wanting to spend the strength to go straight up. There was another old street we found back in those woods and so we followed it, gaining higher ground as we went. Through the treetops was a bright and sunny sky, though in them woods it was creepy and foreboding. The earth had long since risen to eat up most everything, and we climbed or edged our way around rusted up, half-buried automobiles and peered into second-story windows at all the junk and broken old furniture and giant spider webs, the bottom floor way underground.

Gitty was the first one to hear someone coming up from behind. She whispered a sharp warning and we spun about, pistols drawn. It weren't any animal, by the sound of it, and it sure wasn't just one man.

We hurried on, knowing we'd been found again. The noises grew louder, like men hacking through the brush as they closed in on us, and from the sound of it they was fanning out, one of them shouting out something excited in Mexican like he was hot on our trail.

I kept moving, keeping Gitty in front of me, Roy leading us through the thickets as we hurried to gain higher ground. We kept behind the houses, keeping cover as the voices eventually trailed off only to pick up again, the chase lasting a long time and all of us short of breath before finally we came out of the trees and were standing near an open road.

"Mira!"
the shout came.

Startled, we turned around. There he was, that crazy, skull-faced man with the big black eagle on his chest, staring back at us from the edge of the woods. I fired a shot but missed, the bastard ducking behind a tree as a couple more came running out. Roy plugged them both and then we was running, turning to fire when any of them got too close, though there was just too many to shoot them all.

"Go!" Roy shouted, pushing me away. I hesitated but then grabbed Gitty, pulling her with me. We ran, hearing Roy let off a bunch of shots, running down the road until we was spent, the popping of his pistol still reaching us.

Then there was silence, me and Gitty crouched down in the bushes breathing hard. We watched the road, waiting to see who would appear.

"Where is he?" Gitty cried. "Oh God, they done killed Roy!"

"Hush!" I whispered. "Ain't nothing we can do."

"He saved us, Elgin!"

"I know it! Just keep still!"

I strained my ears as I suddenly heard voices, though the road sloped up and weren't nothing I could see past the top of the hill. They went back and forth, like in conversation, though they were too far away for me to make out what was being said.

"Let's go!" I whispered.

"Wait, it's Roy!"

I saw him top the hill, not believing my eyes, and then not just him but the other men who was walking with him. They weren't them crazy Mexicans. They was different, fully dressed and without any scary faces painted on, four in total, all carrying rifles, two on each side of Roy, then behind them two more men who was carrying a dead deer hanging from a pole.

They walked toward us, me and Gitty anxiously stepping out from our hiding place, Roy waving as he spotted me.

"Roy!" I called.

"It's all right," he said.

Then they was standing before us, me and Gitty staring back all dumb, Mexicans, all of them, normal looking men, one with a straw cowboy hat on.

"What in God's name," I said.

"Just put away that gun," Roy told me. "We're safe, I think."

"Roy!" said Gitty. "We ain't think you were going to make it!"

"Me neither, but then these men came out of nowhere and started shooting."

"Who are they? What's going on?"

"I don't know. They wouldn't say much, though I was told to come with them if I wanted to live."

"God bless you men!" Gitty said. "Thank you!"

They just looked at her, curious but not too friendly.

"I don't think they're hearing you, Gitty," I said. "You boys speak English?"

"No, they don't," said Roy.

"Fuímonos,"
the one with the straw hat said, motioning for us to move on. I put away my gun, and with them curious stares from the Mexicans we all started walking, the two with the dead deer trailing behind.

The man with the hat seemed to be the leader. Him and Roy walked in front of us, the two of them talking in Mexican, though Roy had to repeat himself as he stumbled a bit over the words, the Mexican not understanding him all the time.

I walked faster, getting next to Roy.

"What'd he say?"

"He said he's taking us somewhere where it's safe. There's a man who will want to see us there."

"Somewhere safe? What man?"

"Roy, are these good men?" Gitty asked. "They ain't bandits or something, are they? Maybe you should just tell them that we're awful grateful for them saving us, but we really need to be on our way."

"I don't think that would be a good idea," Roy said.

"Yeah, Gitty. What if they take offence? Roy, just tell it like you don't want to put them through any more trouble than they've already been, like you don't want to inconvenience them and all."

In the end, Roy thought better than to say anything, and so with them we went, those crazed killers Roy and our Mexican rescuers had shot up either all dead or not dumb enough to keep following.

After a long walk down the sloping road we came into the clutter of more old buildings and empty streets, Gitty still nervous no matter how much I told her it was going to be all right. Secretly I was a little anxious too, not for me but for Gitty. I'd since noticed the way they was looking at her, saying little things to each other and having a good chuckle as they gave her more than a passing glance. I glared at them, though they didn't pay me no mind until one finally looked over at me, grinned, and after saying something to me in Mexican looked away.

Things eased up after that, though I still kept an eye on those men, wondering how quick I'd be able to draw my pistol if they suddenly turned on us. North we went, or at least that's what it seemed from the sun, setting on my left side as it were. There was a time when I was too ignorant to understand the cardinal directions, which is what they was called and had been since thousands of years ago when man first learned how to go on long journeys and find his way back without remembering every damn thing he'd passed. Before us, rising above the ruins of the city and not many miles away was more hills. They looked real pretty as the sun came to set, and I wondered just how close to them we'd get, though we didn't end up going that far. Still, it was still a long walk, at one point the two men carrying the deer losing hold of the pole and dumping it on the ground. That didn't go over too good with Mr. Straw Hat though, who cussed them out in Mexican until they picked it back up.

It was dark as we arrived at that place, some big hotel or something it must have once been, a tall, two-story building with white columns that, together with the black iron bars that surrounded it, took up half the street. Actually, it was more like a fortress, the armed men who stood around the gate watching as we approached, their faces full of suspicion.