600 Miles: A Post-Apocalyptic Adventure (8 page)

Chapter 13

I jumped up in the morning with a vision of that skull-faced Mexican fresh in my head. Gitty was still sleeping, though Roy weren't near the fireplace no more. I got up, hurrying over to the window. The skeleton man weren't out there, the street completely empty save for all the trash and dead leaves blowing around.

I looked around, spotting Roy sleeping on the floor near the kitchen, relieved that everyone was safe. Then I thought the worst, wondering if Roy was really asleep or if something bad had happened to him while I slept. I crept over to where he was laying, at last seeing him breathing just as I was thinking he might be dead.

Oh, but Gitty! I quickly went back to her but she was warm and breathing peacefully too, and I sat down with a deep sigh and chuckled.

"Elgin, you're crazy," I told myself. Then I remembered what Pete had once told me, about how talking to oneself was a sign of being mentally de-ranged. Then I laughed again at thinking myself crazy just for saying I was crazy out loud, which were some sort of double something or the other, though I couldn't remember the fancy word for it.

I was starving, or real hungry at least. Starving would have meant I was close to death. Some food in my belly would have done me good though. It was hard to think straight without breakfast. I thought about waking Roy up but didn't want to disturb him, seeing how little sleep he seemed to get. I did wake Gitty though, kissing her good morning and watching her pretty eyes flutter open, then saw her sweet sleepy morning smile which did much to help lift my spirits.

Outside it was just the two of us. I knew better than to tell Gitty about the skeleton man, not wanting her to be scared. It was a strange thing anyway and half of me was already thinking I'd dreamed it, and even if he'd been real he was gone now and weren't no one around anymore.

There was a shot in the distance and we both shook. It sounded from far off, back in the direction we'd come from, maybe as far back as where them people lived behind the iron gate, though it seemed we'd come too far from there to be hearing gunfire if it were them. Roy must have heard it too, because it were hardly a minute later that he came out to investigate, his pale, worn out face telling how little sleep he'd had.

We left that place behind, not hearing no more gunshots and left to guess what they'd meant. Thankfully, Roy never thought to say anything about the crazy skeleton man either and so Gitty never found out. Wherever he was, I could only guess. I figured he'd probably gone back for his friends, though by the time they came back we'd be long gone.

The hunting was good. There were plenty of critters around and we shot some squirrels, though my rumbling stomach had to wait a couple hours until we stopped to cook them up. They were good eating, and sure beat rats or other such vermin, which I'd gotten sick on more than once before.

"Tastes like chicken," Gitty said. She'd never had one before, which was surprising seeing as I'd eaten squirrel as many times as I'd eaten rattlesnake or pigeons or any other such creatures that a lot of people would have turned their nose up at unless they was really starved.

"You know what else tastes like that?" I said.

"No, what?"

"A lot of things, though the creepiest thing I ever done heard was from a man who once ate the arm of his dead buddy. They got trapped in this cave-in, see, and—"

"Oh, Elgin! That's disgusting! Why would you even talk about that?"

I laughed because it was kind of funny to me, just imagining some man so desperate that he were chomping on his buddy's arm like it were a chicken leg, though I knew Gitty didn't appreciate it.

"I'm just saying, Gitty."

"Well, I'm trying to eat!"

I chuckled and let it go, wanting to tell her more about what that fella had said to me, but as a gentleman I knew it would be going too far. She glared at me like she was a little angry as she worked her jaws on that crispy squirrel kind of slow, like she were still thinking about that arm but trying not to, though no doubt such a an-bom— an
an-bom-a-ble
thing is hard to forget once you've heard it.

Served me right to get a good scare as I was finding humor in it, or maybe once again by talking about creepy things I'd conjured up something bad. Standing a little distance away was a lone figure, though it didn't take more than a moment to realize who it was, that skeleton face staring at us from across the field. Roy saw him too, letting the smoke out between his teeth as he lifted his head. Gitty was the last, jumping up and nearly tripping over herself with fright.

"It's him!" she cried.

I stood up, my hand on my pistol as I squinted against the sun. If there was more in hiding I couldn't see them, just that one man standing alone across the field just like he'd been standing across the street the night before.

"Stay here," Roy said.

"Roy, wait a second!"

He ignored me, walking right toward him though that strange skeleton man never moved, not an inch, the two just calmly eyeballing each other as Roy approached. He weren't far from him at all when he stopped, though he still hadn't drawn his gun. Then he did, pulling it out of his holster and holding it by his side, me and Gitty speechless, wondering what might happen with every moment that passed, her fingers digging into my arm.

Roy stood there, neither of the two moving, the whole thing going on for too long. I kept waiting for the skeleton man to suddenly charge and for Roy to shoot him, though it never happened. At last it was over, and I couldn't believe my eyes as Roy turned around and started walking back, his back wide open to the skeleton man who just stood there instead of taking his chance. When finally that long walk was over, all we could do was stand there with our mouths hanging open, though Roy just sat back down.

"Roy!" I said.

Across the field, that crazy skeleton still hadn't budged.

"Well, damn, you gonna tell us what happened or what?"

"Nothing happened."

"Nothing?"

"I gave him a chance. He didn't want it, or didn't take it."

"Where's his friends at?" Gitty said, still all jittery as she looked around. "What is this Roy? Is it some kind of trap?"

"It's just him, I think. If his friends were here they'd be all over us by now."

"You think he's playing with you?" I asked. "Like this is some kind of test or something?"

Roy just shrugged, not knowing the answer any more than we did. Gitty was still staring at the skeleton man who watched us from across the field, shuddering as she turned away.

"Just shoot him then! Why don't one of you boys just shoot?"

"Because it don't work like that," I said. "You can't just shoot a defenseless man with no good reason, even if he done try to kill us."

"No good reason?"

"Well, maybe we got reason but that's still just how it is. Ain't no honorable man going to just shoot a man who comes to him all peaceable and without arms. Ain't that right, Roy?"

"Something like that. Besides, if his friends are around, shooting him is just going to piss them off. Let's just pack up and get out of here."

In no time we was moving on, that skull-faced son of a bitch watching us go. For a while it seemed like he weren't around anymore. Then a short time later I spotted him again, trailing us from far behind.

"God damn it! There he is again!"

We stopped and waited, Gitty suddenly all scared. It went like that all afternoon, him disappearing only for us to finally spot him following again, though he never got too close. Roy said not to pay it no mind and to keep moving, and what else was there to do unless we wanted to chance shooting him, though I were still convinced that's what his friends was waiting for, like they was playing some kind of game.

We headed south, then west, then south again, Roy believing it was the shortest way to the coast, though how long it might take he wasn't sure. Sometime that afternoon we heard more gunshots from far off, though in those cluttered, unending ruins it was hard to tell from which direction they'd come, the old overgrown streets otherwise so ghostly and quiet. There was many houses and old buildings, rows upon rows, all dilapidated and empty, which were a fancy way of saying they was run down, though how many people might still be hiding in them and watching us pass we didn't know.

After hearing those gunshots things were tense again, always wondering who or what we might run into on the next street. Thankfully we didn't catch any more sight of the skeleton man. Hopefully we had lost him, which made sleeping much easier that night knowing there weren't some sinister pair of eyes watching us from the dark, though Gitty, still nervous as she were, snuggled up tight as we slept.

Chapter 14

We continued through the quiet streets the next morning, the sun on our backs, always looking over our shoulders for that skull-faced man who'd been trailing us the day before, though we never spotted him.

"I think he's gone," Gitty said. "Thank God. I don't ever want to see that evil face again."

"Roy, how much farther you think we have to go?" I said.

"I don't know. A couple days maybe."

"I just can't wait to leave this horrible place behind," Gitty said. "I ain't ever seen a place so sad. All these houses, so empty and dead looking. Just think about it, how many people must have been living here so happy before all that fighting and killing went down. How many children would we be seeing running around playing hopscotch and throwing ball, little doggies barking in the front yard, daddy pulling up the driveway, mama busy in the kitchen cooking supper. Oh, Elgin, it's just so depressing to think about! All those lives and now there ain't nothing here at all."

I tried to tell her that it weren't nothing that could be helped, that maybe all those people was gone but there was still the future for the ones still living, like that crap I'd sometimes heard from people who was still living in denial about how bad things really were because they ain't have no backbone to face the truth head-on, the truth that the world were a pile of shit and that it were man's fault for making it that way. But whatever. Weren't no getting through to people who had their heads buried in the sand.

We turned a few more streets before we found it, Roy slowing as he was the first to see the body lying in the middle of the street. It was a man. Mexican, he looked like, a big husky fella way bigger than either me or Roy, or had been at least, because now he weren't nothing but a corpse. He couldn't have been dead for too long though. His smell weren't bad enough for that, though the birds hadn't wasted no time getting to him, one of his eyeballs missing on account of them probably having plucked it out. His lips were half gone too, so that he were just staring up at the sky with his one remaining eye and a grisly smile he couldn't help but have.

Gitty let out a little yelp upon seeing that face, quickly turning away.

"He ain't been dead long," I said. "Maybe that was the shooting we heard yesterday. I ain't seeing any holes in him though."

"Probably got it in the back."

Roy rubbed the tip of his boot in the dried up puddle under the body and I bent down to take a closer look, impressed how smart he was that he could figure something like that out without hardly trying. We found more farther up the street: two dead, shirtless Mexicans with shaved heads, one wearing a black scarf that hid half his face. They had lots of tattoos on them too, stuff like skulls and guns and pretty ladies, one of them with the words "SAN FERNANDO" in big fancy letters across his chest, which I guess had been his name.

"Looks like they lost," I said.

"Yeah. Lots of spent casings around though. 9 millimeter, looks like. Must have been a pretty intense firefight."

I hadn't even noticed them, them little brass casings littering the ground. Roy was a real good detective, no doubt.

"You think these are some of them gangers we was told about?"

"Looks like it to me."

"Well at least there don't seem to be anyone around no more."

"That's because you're not looking good enough, you dumb shit!"

The voice had come out of nowhere. We whipped around, grabbing at our guns.

"Touch those guns and I'm gonna put a bullet right in your head!"

It was a different voice, this one from behind.

"I didn't say to turn around, you Mexican fuck. Move one more inch and you're dead. Now your pistols. Drop 'em!"

I did what he said without chancing a look back, carefully easing my pistol out of my belt and tossing it aside. Gitty, seeing my example, did the same, her rifle clattering on the pavement.

"That's real good," he said, still only a voice from behind. "Now you too, asshole."

Roy ain't do nothing at first, his stony expression fixed straight ahead. Then, slowly, his hand moved down to his gun.

"Hurry up! You don't drop that gun in two seconds and you're dead!"

The voice was closer than before, like he was coming up on us—behind and to the right. Roy must have figured it too, because fast as lighting he spun around and—
BAM! BAM!
—there were two loud shots from his pistol, a third shot, not from Roy, immediately following.  

It all happened so fast: Roy spinning, shooting, someone shooting back, and then he was laying on the ground. Without thinking, I dove for my gun, pulling back my hand as a bullet burst on the pavement right next it. 

"Not quick enough, you piece of shit!"

He came out of the bushes, his pistol pointing at me, a scruffy, wiry fella with crazy eyes.

"You," he said to Gitty, "back away from that rifle or I'll put holes in the both of you!"

She did what he said, the man bobbing his head as he displayed them rotten teeth of his, grinning ear to ear.

"Yeah, that's a good girl. Now you. Kick that pistol over here,
now
."

I gave it a little kick, my gun sliding across the pavement, the man cautiously crouching down as he kept his crazy eyes on us and licked his lips, tucking my gun in his belt before going for Gitty's. Roy started moving, holding onto his shoulder, his fingers all covered with blood. He rolled over onto his belly, slowly crawling to where he saw his gun laying on the ground. The other man reached it first, picking it up and giving it a close look, his pistol still pointed at me and Gitty.

"Holy shit, look at this gun! Beretta 9 fucking millimeter. Man, I haven't seen one of these in ages!"

Roy kept still. The man, suddenly remembering him, kicked him in the head, knocking Roy onto his back.

"No!"
Gitty cried.

He just laughed, one of them wonky eyes fixing on her . Then his eyes—I mean his eye—went to his buddy on the ground, his other looking off in another direction.

"Terry!" he called. "Hey, Terry!"

Terry didn't answer. He couldn't, as dead as he were, Roy having plugged him good.

"Oh, shit, shit, shit! Terry, you stupid fuck! Oh, you assholes are gonna pay! You, pick him the fuck up. Move!"

I reached down and hauled Roy up, finally managing to get him over my shoulder. Then he ordered me to start walking, all twitchy and fired up like he might start shooting at any second. Down the street we went, his gun on us the whole time as he followed behind, telling us more how sorry we was going to be for shooting his friend. I knew I had to do something, knowing we was as good as dead and that he were just trying to think up some twisted way of drawing it out. My first thought was wondering how many shots he could get off if I dropped Roy and charged him, though after weighing it in my mind I knew I'd never make it two steps before being gunned down.

I was trying to think up another plan when I lost my grip on Roy. The two of us went down, hitting the pavement hard.

"You asshole! Get that sack of shit back over your shoulder or you're next!"

I tried to do as he said, though after finally getting Roy up and carrying him a few steps we fell again, what little strength I had left after hauling him so far finally giving out. The man cussed, coming over and kicking me as I was getting up.

"Let him alone!" Gitty begged.

He ignored her, ordering me up again. I knew if I didn't make it to my feet I'd be dead. I got up, grabbing hold of Roy just as he was coming to, until at last he was able to get to his feet and both of us were shuffling forward, Roy's weight on my shoulder as I kept him from falling down.

We didn't go much farther before I saw them, those three men standing near the edge of the woods, two white and one with a ragged ball cap who I wasn't sure about, all dirty, the white men with long, scraggly beards, the other one just scruffy. They got up from where they was sitting on the ground when they saw us, grabbing their guns.

"What the hell!" one shouted.

They gathered around, all twitchy and fired up as they looked us over.

"We found them wandering up the street near those dead gangers. This asshole shot Terry."

"Shot him? Dead?"

"Dead enough."

"Fuck!"

He came up to Roy, staring him hard in the face, then hit him in the belly with the butt of his rifle, Roy crumpling up as he went down.

"Shot him?
Shot him?
Oh, you're gonna be sorry now!"

"And what's this?" he said, moving to take a closer look at Gitty. "Well, momma, momma, momma!"

He circled around her, grinning as he looked her up and down, Gitty trembling. I tensed, balling up my fists, them dirty eyes of his soaking her in.

"You get away from her!"

There was white hot pain as someone hit me hard in back of the knee. My leg buckled and I went down, my face hitting the dirt, the lot of them laughing, one of the men grabbing Gitty as she tried to run to me. I tried to push myself back up but a boot came down on my knuckles, grinding back and forth as I screamed. Then there was a heavy weight pressing down on my back as someone sat on me and forced me down, his rifle pinning my shoulders.

There was laughing and something ripped and I looked up and they had torn Gitty's shirt wide open, a man still holding her from behind.

"My God!" one of them said. "Look at them big tits!"

I was fighting to get up, the man on top of me pushing my face back down into the dirt, Gitty's terrible cries and the wicked laughter of the men filling my ears. "I'll kill you!" I said, my shout muffled in the dust, my rage useless as I was held down. Then there was a scream, not Gitty's but the man on top of me, blood-choked and terrible, and suddenly the weight lifted off. I rolled onto my side in time to see Roy stick another, that little whittling knife he had pulled from his boot stabbing the man who couldn't get his gun up in time right in the throat.

Everything happened so fast. One man was still holding Gitty, and yet another was suddenly tangling with Roy, the two of them going down, Roy trying to stick him though the man had a good grip on his arm. I rushed to help Gitty, though the man holding her was finally able to get his pistol out and pushed it against her head.

"Stop right there!" he said. Roy was getting up, the man under him twitching a little before he was dead. Now it was only the one holding Gitty who was left, the same crazy-eyed man who had brought us there. He backed up, keeping one arm tight around her, his pistol tucked under her chin.

"Stay back!" he warned, his hand shaking. I was afraid he might slip, like that trigger might suddenly pull. "One step and I'm gonna blow this bitch's brains out!"

Weren't no bluff. He knew he was dead anyway. I could see it in his eyes, and like him, I was shaking too, afraid that he was going to decide to take Gitty with him.

"Easy," I said, nice and slow. "Just you let her go and ain't no one more going to die here."

For a second he wanted to believe me. Then he laughed a little, his scared lips quivering, his crazy, crooked eyes darting back and forth between me and Roy.

"You gotta be shitting me," he said. "No way you're going let me walk away. Take one step and she's getting it, you understand?"

My eyes shot to the right then back again, though the man was so worked up he didn't notice. My heart was pumping hard for there he was, that fiendish Mexican creeping up on him from behind, skull face and all. I licked my lips, my breath caught in my chest, sweating as the seconds passed.

"Now hold on," I managed to say. "We can make any deal you want."

That skull face was even closer now, that sinister grim reaper straight out of hell who had been haunting us for days. Them dead eyes of his were locked on his prey as the distance between him and the man closed, close now, now closer, Gitty so terrified, not daring to move as the muzzle of the man's pistol pushed under her chin, his attention too fixed on me and Roy and his nerves too shaken to realize what was coming.

His feet tread softly, like a cougar stalking a deer, one hand empty with fingers spread, the other holding what looked like a big hook like those I'd seen them use in them slaughterhouses back in Texas dragging around dead steer. Then he sprang, the man holding onto Gitty suddenly realizing someone was at his back, but it were too late. He tried to bring his gun around but the Mexican caught his wrist, Gitty running as his hold on her let loose. And then that hook sunk deep into his belly, dragging all the way up as it filleted him, blood and guts gushing out.

There was a horrible, blood-curdling scream, but it only lasted a second before it stopped, the gutted man laying facedown with that skull-faced killer standing over him, that meat hook dripping blood. I held Gitty tight as she clutched onto me, pressing her face against my neck, her whole body shaking uncontrollably.

Me and Roy was speechless, just staring, that skeleton man who had just saved Gitty from death staring back, his bloody hook resting at his side. No one moved, Roy finally saying a few careful words to him in Mexican, the air tense.