Dead Highways: Origins (21 page)

I followed the pair of black men through the house and into the kitchen, where we found the young boy lying flat on his back on the tile floor with Diego on top of him. The kid was no longer screaming. After Robinson and Bowser pulled Diego off and wrestled him away, it was obvious why.

A knife protruded from the kid’s chest. Blood poured out of multiple holes.

I stepped forward, in shock at what lay before me.

The kid was still alive, gurgling up blood with each breath he managed to pull from his punctured lungs.

He looked up at me, spit up more blood, and said, “Pl-please . . . hh-elp.”

I stood, looking down at him, knowing there was nothing I could do to help him. Knowing he would die. Waiting for it to happen. He tried again to ask for my help but failed. He was fading.

Seconds later, the kid went to take another breath, but didn’t have one left.

Behind me, Robinson, Bowser, and Diego slowly stood up. I turned around and stared at Diego, as Robinson and Bowser both backed away from him.

“He’s dead,” I finally whispered through parched lips. “He’s dead and you killed him.”

“So . . . how many have
you
killed?” Diego snapped back. “They killed . . . they killed my love. My Luna.”

“This kid didn’t kill anybody,” Robinson said.

“This kid wasn’t even infected.” I looked back down at the dead body. I had to move my foot out of the way of the approaching blood. “He was like us.”

Diego now stared down at the dead kid. “Why didn’t he say anything?”

“He did,” Bowser said. “Didn’t you hear him screaming for help?”

“That poor kid pled for his life,” Robinson added. “And then you took it.”

Though my hands were still shaking, I managed to raise Sally. Pointed her at Diego. “You’re a murderer. This wasn’t self-defense. You killed an innocent person.”

“Jimmy, lower the gun,” Robinson said.

But I didn’t. I
wouldn’t.

“Do it,” Diego said, crumbling back to the tile floor. “Please just kill me.”

Then he put his hands over his blood-speckled face and started sobbing again, as bad as when he’d found Luna dead in the ditch.

Mixed in with the cries, he said,
“Lo siento mucho.”

I’m so sorry.

And so was I.

I dropped the gun on the floor and walked away.

Ted was leaning against his green Jeep when I returned to the road.

“Something wrong?” he asked.

I shook my head.

“I was wondering where you guys went.”

“You couldn’t have been waiting long.”

“No. Maybe a minute. Where are the others?”

Just as the question left his mouth, the
others
appeared between the two houses. Diego was out front. Robinson and Bowser walked a little ways behind him. They stopped when they reached Luna’s body.

“I’ll ride with you,” I said. “If that’s okay.”

“Sure.”

I got in the passenger seat of the Jeep.

Ted walked over to the others in the ditch. I watched from the side mirror as they talked amongst themselves for more than a minute. Robinson was probably explaining what happened. Where we went, as Ted had asked. Then Robinson and Ted left the ditch and stopped at the rear of the Jeep.

“Need any help?” Ted asked.

“No, the three of us can handle it,” Robinson said, walking away. “I’m gonna pull the car closer.”

“Okay. We’ll wait.”

Ted got in the driver’s seat of the Jeep, turned on the engine. Robinson pulled his squad car closer to the ditch, moved Jax to the front seat. Then the three of them picked up Luna, carried her to the car, and placed her in the back seat. Diego sat beside her, while Bowser got in the front with the shepherd.

“Did they tell you?”

Ted looked over at me. He had been watching them, too. “Tell me what?”

Robinson whistled to get our attention. Gave his thumbs up.

Ted pulled out and led the way to his house. “What were you gonna tell me?” he asked, when we were a mile down the road.

Nothing.

The same as the others.

“Never mind,” I whispered. “It’s not important.”

When we reached Ted’s house, I kind of wished we could drive around longer. It didn’t matter where. Just drive. I’d had my eyes shut the entire ride (which was no more than five minutes long), enjoying the sun and wind on my face, trying to push the reset button in my brain. Wanting to forget all I’d just seen.

I hopped out of the Jeep and looked around. Ted wasn’t kidding about his house being secluded. There were no other houses in sight, just lots of empty land, much of it blanketed with tall trees. Ted’s property, however, was mostly flat earth with the occasional dirt hill. Wide open spaces. Five acres, if I had to make a guess.

Once inside, I sat down in the living room and tried to relax. I leaned my head back and shut my eyes again, but it wasn’t the same. No wind. No sun. There was too much going on around me. Too many people. Ted’s house was rather small compared to the size of his property, but it was more than enough space for him.

For the rest of us . . . not so much.

Finally, I gave up, opened my eyes, and marveled in Ted’s bizarre choice of décor. His house was a prime example of what happens when a woman isn’t around to say no. There were animal heads on the walls, a deer and a hog, next to multiple gun racks. He had two sofas—one dark brown, the other light green. He had an old wooden coffee table with a scratched up piece of glass on top, rings where he didn’t use a coaster. Mounted over the fireplace was a giant swordfish. On the mantle, fishing trophies. Speaking of fish, on the opposite end of the room were two fish tanks that looked like they hadn’t ever been cleaned—the water was foggier than a haunted house. Yeah, it was just as I figured all along, Ted fit the stereotype of the quintessential outdoorsman. His house even smelled like bug spray.

I shut my eyes. This time I tried to pretend I was in a forest camping. All alone. The feeling didn’t last long.

Peaches sat down beside me. “You okay? You look out of it.”

I opened my eyes. “Maybe I am. Where’s Olivia?”

“She’s lying down.”

“Good,” I said, and shut my eyes again.

“You gonna tell me what’s wrong?”

Naima sat down on the other side of Peaches but didn’t say anything.

I could feel Peaches glaring at me, waiting for an answer. I knew she wouldn’t back down. She’d poke at me until I cracked.

“Come on.” I finally said, standing up. To Naima, “We’ll be back in a minute.”

I led Peaches out to Ted’s back porch. Way off in the distance near the edge of the tree line was the outdoorsman himself, shovel in hand, digging what would soon become Luna’s grave.

“Well . . .” Peaches said.

I told her what Diego had done.

“Why would he do that?”

I took a deep breath. “He just lost it. His fiancée was killed right in front of him. He couldn’t handle his emotions. Fuck, I don’t know.”

Peaches sighed. “He’s gonna have to learn how to control himself. Otherwise, I don’t want him around. He could be a danger to us all. What if he gets mad at one of us?”

“I know. I know. I’m gonna talk to Robinson, see what he thinks.”

“You mean . . . if he thinks Diego is a danger to the group?”

“Yeah, and if he should stay.”

“And what do you think?”

“I think maybe he should leave.” I looked out at Ted still grave digging, a big pile of dirt now next to him. “But I don’t want to make the wrong decision.”

A half hour later, we all stood in a circle around Luna’s grave, heads bowed, and waited for Diego to say his final goodbyes. He took off his wedding band and closed it in her hand. Then he sang to her in Spanish. He didn’t sound too bad, for someone with tears rolling down their face. When it was all said and sung, Ted covered her with dirt and placed a cross he’d fashioned together with some wooden boards over the gravesite.

For many minutes, there was only silence. Then one by one, we offered our condolences and sauntered back to the house. Diego stayed a while longer, kneeling by the grave.

I pulled Robinson aside and told him I didn’t think Diego should remain in the group. Robinson responded with something I did not expect.

“I’m leaving, Jimmy.”

“What? What do you mean?”

“I can’t stay here. I know this was all my idea, getting survivors together, but I want you to handle things from here on out.”

“What?”

That’s right. Just keep saying
what
. Soon it’ll all make sense.

“You’ll be fine without me. Ted’s got himself together. Don’t worry.”

“I don’t understand. What are you gonna do? Where are you gonna go?”

“New Orleans.”

I sighed. “New Orleans. It’s probably a disaster zone.”

Robinson shrugged. “Might be. But I gotta see if I can find my boy.”

“I don’t know what to say. I know you’d said you were thinking about it. But still I’m shocked. You really think you’re gonna be able to find him? And if you do, what if . . .”

“I’ve given it a lot of thought. If he’s infected, then I’ll deal with it. I just gotta know one way or the other. Besides, as it stands my house is a damn coffin. Everyone I worked with either fled town or became one of them. They were my family, my friends. And they’re gone now, and they’re not coming back. So I need to leave. There’s nothing for me here anymore.”

“Except us.”

“And I’m gonna miss you all,” Robinson said. “I know this isn’t easy. But it’s the way it has to be. I’m sorry if I let you down.”

“You didn’t.”

“Thanks Jimmy. I needed to hear you say that.”

“When are you gonna tell the others?”

“Right now. I just wanted you to be the first to know.”

“Well, thanks for the heads up.”

Robinson gathered everyone together in the living room and told them what he had just told me.

Everyone except Diego, of course, who was still out by Luna’s grave.

Ted was the first to respond, direct as could be. “You ain’t never gonna make it. You’ve seen the way things are now.”

“I’ve gotta try,” Robinson replied.

“New Orleans isn’t exactly close by,” Ted continued. “I’ve been through there many times. I used to live in Texas. Got some family out there.”

“I didn’t say it would be easy. But I’ve got to try.”

“Can if you want, but I think you’re making a mistake.”

“You might be right, and I’m okay with that. Obviously, it’s dangerous. That’s why I hoped maybe you could lend me a few supplies. Maybe a couple guns. Some ammo. It’ll make the trip easier.”

“Sure would, but I don’t know. I’ll have to think about that.”

“No problem.”

“Wait a minute,” I said, pointing at Jax lying down at the feet of his master. “What are you gonna do with
him
?”

Robinson looked down. Jax looked up at him, panting, happy, no idea what was going on.

“I’d like to take him with me, but I don’t think I can. It would make the trip much harder than it needs to be. And it’s gonna be hard enough already. Would you take care of him, Jimmy?”

What was I supposed to say? No? What was the alternative if I didn’t want to take care of Jax—to drive somewhere and let him out, let him try and survive on his own? The freaking love dog?

“I guess I could,” I said.

“We’re really gonna miss you,” Peaches said. “Thank you for all you’ve done.”

“Yes, thank you,” Naima added.

“No need to thank me. You’re all good people,” Robinson said. “I appreciate all the support you’re giving me. You won’t be forgotten.”

“And I was just starting to like you again,” Bowser said. “Not much. But a little.”

Robinson smirked. “You saved my ass a few times today. I’d say any beef I had with you is long over.”

“When are you leaving?” Aamod asked.

“I want to leave today, before it gets dark.”

I looked at my watch. 5:42 p.m.

“So I’m gonna need an answer soon about those supplies, Ted.”

“Sure thing.” Ted got up. “Come with me. Let me see what I can do.”

Robinson followed him. I followed Robinson.

Ted’s garage was nothing like most people’s garages—a catchall for random junk—his garage was loaded with supplies from corner to corner, all neatly placed and organized. Water. Flashlights. Knives. MREs. Sleeping bags. Tents. Backpacks. Maps. Crowbars. Lighters. Freezer bags. Axes. Pepper spray. Flares. Gloves. Binoculars. Handsaws. Sunscreen. Lanterns. Toolboxes. First aid kits. Light sticks. Fishing gear. And every survivalist’s most prized possession—duct tape.

These were a few of Ted’s favorite things.

“This is incredible,” I said, taking it all in. Even with such a large amount of stuff, there was still room to walk around. Unlike the rest of his house, every inch of space in the garage had been meticulously calculated in order to contain such a high volume of gear.

“Yeah, you prepare for the shit to hit the fan, knowing it may never happen, and then it does.” Ted smiled. “Funny, I had placed my bets on an economic collapse.”

“I used to think people like you were crazy,” Robinson said.

“You’re not the only one. You don’t want to know how much all this cost me. Had the shit never hit the fan, I
would
have been crazy. And maybe just a little stupid. But right now, I’d rather be me than a lot of people out there.”

“Especially the infected,” I said. “But just out of curiosity, how much
did
all this stuff cost?”

“Tens of thousands of dollars, easy,” Ted replied without hesitation, like he’d answered the question a million times. “And that’s not even including the guns. Or the ammo, which might be the most costly part. Of course, I built this collection over many years, but it was still a hefty insurance policy. I wish I could say I’m glad it paid off . . . but no . . . I’d trade all this to have things back the way they were . . . have my store back.”

“So where do you keep the guns?” Robinson asked.

“Oh, they’re in here,” Ted said, unlocking a large metal safe next to the door. The safe was easily seven or eight feet tall and twelve feet wide.

He had everything. All types and variants. Old and new. Anything that was legal, anyway. Hunting rifles. Tactical rifles. Revolvers. Semi-automatic shotguns. Everything. On shelves below the hanging guns were stores of ammunition. Boxes and boxes and more boxes.

Robinson looked pleased, but not shocked. As a police officer, he had no doubt seen, perhaps even handled, many of these weapons at one time or another. He took a few of the rifles off the rack and looked them over.

“What do you think you can spare?” he asked. “Not just guns, I mean. But anything.”

“Well, let’s see.” Ted stepped away and examined his supplies. For a moment, he looked lost in thought, and then he turned and said, “I got a better idea.”

Robinson carefully set an AK-47 back down on the rack. “What’s that?”

Ted briefly hesitated, and then said, “What if I come with you?”

“Come with me,” Robinson repeated. “Why would you do that?”