600 Miles: A Post-Apocalyptic Adventure (7 page)

Besides the building, behind that gate was a large concrete yard, and in there was more people, men and women, most of them just as well armed. I watched them as the man with the straw hat talked to someone near the gate, as did Gitty, who figured things couldn't be so bad if there was women there. I even saw a young lady who was holding a baby, undoubtedly the first baby I'd seen in quite a while, though she didn't look like any Mexican I'd ever seen before. Then again, neither did a lot of those people, though neither did they look all that white.

The gates opened, the man with the straw hat leading us through, the others following close behind. Everyone watched as we entered, wondering who the strangers were. They stared at us as we were led toward the building and we stared back, wondering what the place was all about, that fortress of Mexican guards guarding un-Mexican people, and if it sounds strange and confusing it's because it was to me too.

We were taken to the big white pillared building and then led inside, the curious people looking in until the doors were shut. Inside was a wide room with a high ceiling that looked a lot like a church without the crosses or stained glass windows, some kind of wooden pedestal standing on a concrete slab near the front. There was a couple of more men standing in there, one sporting a shotgun, and another white man who wasn't quite white, the second being the one who came up and talked to our Mexican with the straw hat a little before going up the stairs.

We waited, all of us wondering what was going to happen next, Roy shaking his head when I asked where we were. Eventually, yet another man appeared, coming down the stairs, neatly dressed in some soldier-style pants and wearing a black semi-automatic pistol on his hip. He smiled at us as he approached, taking us in.

"Welcome," he said. "I'm Abram."

I couldn't place him neither. Smooth looking fella though, kind of young. He walked up to Roy, shaking his hand.

"I'm Roy."

"A pleasure, Roy. Hernando told me how he found you. I'm glad to see everyone's ok. Rest assured that we're civilized people here. You have nothing to fear from us, as long as you're not looking to cause any trouble."

"We were just passing through."

"I see. Well, it's not often we get honest travelers around here. Bandits and gangers we get plenty of, but not much else. If you'd like to rest here for the night you are more than welcome. Wandering these neighborhoods after dark can be very dangerous, and I couldn't in good conscience turn you away. Of course, I'll have to ask that you give up your weapons while you're with us. For our own protection, of course."

"Thanks," Roy said, "but we'll be moving on. We're grateful for the help your men gave us though. I doubt we would have lived if they hadn't happened by."

Abram smiled, taking a seat on the table, the man with the straw hat giving him a funny look.

"I hope Hernando didn't say anything to make you distrust us. He's a good man, though he can be a little brusque. Actually, he was quite impressed by you. He told me what a brave man you are, single-handedly facing so many of the Hijos de Muerte with little regard for your own life." 

"The Hijos de Muerte?"

"The 'Sons of Death' they call themselves, a merciless gang of psychopaths that usually doesn't venture so far from downtown. I'm surprised they followed you all the way into the Valley. They usually keep away from here on account of not only how many of them we've killed, but because of all the rival gangs they'd have at their throats."

"There are a lot around here?"

"Gangs? Yes. Mostly Mexican, though there are a few who will accept anyone who's tough enough to make it in.
Progressives
, you might call them."

"I've noticed the same here," Roy said, glancing back at the men who had brought us in. "You seem like a pretty mixed bunch. I haven't seen that in too many places."

"I imagine not," said Abram, "though it wasn't always this way. We used to keep to ourselves, just like our parents and grandparents told us to, warning us of anyone who wasn't our kind. For a long time we were quite successful, our better resources and superior firepower being the reason we lived while so many others died. Unfortunately, cultural purity doesn't work so well when you have hordes of bloodthirsty barbarians breathing down your neck and your 'people' have to either embrace those outside their community or become extinct, being outnumbered twenty to one. We're third generation Israelis, most of us. The rest of the people here are Mexican, for the most part, families and honest people just as desperate as we were when we joined with them to survive."

"And you're their leader?"

"Yes, of this neighborhood actually, or what's left of it. Most of our people don't dare to go beyond this street. We're seldom attacked anymore after all the gangers we've killed, though venturing too far away from this gated safe haven is very dangerous."

"Thanks for the warning. I'll keep it in mind."

The man looked over to me and Gitty, smiling as he gave us a little nod. He'd been looking at her quite a bit, and despite his good manners I didn't like it. Not nasty like them Mexican fellas had looked at her, but something strange, like he'd taken some kind of secret interest in her but didn't want to let on.

"Well," he said, "my offer still stands if you change your mind. I'm sure that after all you've been through you could use a good night's rest. Of course, I'll need you to disarm."

"We appreciate it," Roy said, "but we'll be heading on."

"I understand. Good luck to you then. Hernando will lead you out. Tell me though, if I may ask. Where are you headed?"

"I'm not sure. I guess we'll find out soon enough."

The man smiled again, nodding his head. "Very well. So long, and be careful."

He stood up and walked away, going back up the stairs, his man Hernando taking us out of the building. The curious faces were still there when we walked out, all them people having gathered near the front of the building to find out who we were. As we were nearing the gate Gitty looked back, then looked to me like I might say something to convince Roy that we should stay. It was a hard look to bear, but I kept walking, knowing Roy had good reason for us not staying no matter how much, like Gitty, I wished we could.

It was almost dark and it was a grim thing hearing those iron gates close behind us, but with an "adios" from the man with the straw hat we walked away, following the lonely tracks that ran down the street as all those eyes watched us until we was gone.

Chapter 12

The train tracks led us west. We walked it for a while, the street lined with plenty of places to sleep, nothing but empty, rundown houses and crumbling old apartment buildings everywhere we went. Still, Roy kept going.

"I can't believe we walked away from there!" Gitty said.

"Hush, Gitty. They might still be hearing us."

"Ain't no one can hear us from this far, Elgin."

"He might be right," said Roy. "We're being followed."

"Followed?"

Me and Gitty looked back, though it was too dark to see much of anything.

"How do you know?" I said.

"Is it those Mexican men?" Gitty wondered.

"I don't know."

"Maybe they want to invite us back," she said. "Why didn't we just stay? That man seemed so nice, like a real gentleman."

"Too nice," said Roy.

"He's right," I said. "And I ain't ever had no luck with men who was too nice."

"Who
were
too nice, Elgin! Aw hell, what are we doing now anyway?"

The anger rose up in me right quick. I stopped, turning on her all red and flustered.

"Damn it, woman, you want to walk back to Arizona then go ahead. Or maybe you'd just like to go back to them folks and beg them to let you back in? Well, go do it then, if that's the way you'd have it."

Weren't no sooner that I said it when Gitty broke down and cried.

"Aw, damn it. I'm sorry, Gitty."

I put my hand on her and she buried her face in my shoulder and let it all out. Roy stopped to look back at us, though his eyes moved to the darkness beyond, making me turn to see what he was looking at, though there still weren't nothing there.

We walked on, Gitty sniffling and wiping at her face. I knew how embarrassed she must have been to cry like that in front of Roy. He didn't pay it no mind though, just like he didn't seem to pay much mind to anything that weren't meaning we might be in danger, always so cool and composed, that man with the shaved head and the mean sideburns, that man with the fancy shooter that spit death, that man I would have followed anywhere if it weren't for Gitty who, let it be known, I loved as much as it were possible for a man to love.

We soon left the tracks and moved into one of the abandoned houses that looked to be in decent condition, or at least it were one that didn't look like it were going to fall down on our heads. Roy was still convinced someone or someones was following us, though he said it didn't matter much as he sat himself down and laid his pistol on his lap.

Soon, exhausted as she was, Gitty was sleeping, stretched out on a dusty old sofa that were big enough for two people to lay down on, though I didn't bother lying down just yet. Though I should have been more than a little tired I still felt wide awake, and picking my way across the dark room I sat next to Roy, wanting to make some conversation but not knowing how to start.

"Roy?"

For a moment I thought he might be sleeping, but then I saw that his eyes was still open and I followed his stare, looking at the pile of ashes and small bones laying in the cold fireplace.

"So, why'd we leave that place anyway?" I said. "I mean, if it don't sound stupid to ask. I've been thinking about it, and I'm guessing it's because that man asked us to hand over our guns. Is that what made you not trust him?"

I waited a while for that answer, fidgeting a bit as the silence grew long.

"Nobody gets my gun," he said at last, "not by force, not asking nicely, not even if they beg. The way I figure it, the day someone wants my pistol is the day he's going to have to shoot me dead. You're a good man, Elgin, but remember what I tell you. There's nothing on this earth worth your freedom: not a full belly, not a beautiful woman, not even a soft and cozy bed."

I thought about it, not quite sure just what he was getting at. I just nodded like I understood, though when I looked over he was still staring off into nowhere, the moonlight that were coming through the broken window lighting up the side of his face. I let some time pass, pulling at a loose string on my pants.

"So, Roy, I was thinking about things. Well, thinking about, you know, where we might be headed next. What do you think? I ain't too sure about going back into the city."

"No, not the city. I don't know. We'll just keep walking, I guess."

"The ocean maybe? Could we go there? It would really be something else to see that."

"Sure. Maybe then. Go get some rest."

I settled in, laying down on the sofa with Gitty who stirred and put her arm around me, nodding off in no time at all. In the dream I had, it was just me and her sitting on the beach on that warm California sand. Right next to us was a big bucket full of fish, my line still dangling in the blue water. There weren't no waves or nothing. It was just calm, like I might have been fishing at the lake.

I looked down and Gitty was cutting the head off one of the fish I'd caught, the thing getting all dirty as it flopped around in the sand. Then she gave it to me without even cooking it, pushing the slimy thing into my hand. Nearby I saw Roy sitting alone on some rocks, staring out to sea, not caring about fish or fishing or anything but how long that ocean went and wondering, maybe, what was on the other side.

I called to Roy but he didn't hear me. He was too far away, or maybe he just didn't want to listen no more. I thought it might cheer him up though if he saw how many fish I'd caught. It weren't good for a man to be so sad all the time, I knew. It made life seem like a chore you just had to keep going on with, like weren't ever any end to it and every day was just another day of feeling bad.

"Roy," I called, "come do some fishing!"

"Eat up, Elgin," Gitty told me. I looked down, that cold dead fish with no head on it still in my hands. I sniffed at it and it didn't smell so great, certainly not like anything I should be eating raw, but then I bit into it right where the head was cut off and started to chew, my jaws slowly grinding it up.

"It's horrible, Gitty, just horrible!" I said, all that soggy fish meat squishing in my mouth.

"Keep chewing, Elgin," Gitty said. "You ain't done with it yet."

I tried to take another bite but just couldn't. Then I doubled over, suddenly puking up everything I had inside, throwing up so hard that the veins was popping out of my neck. Not just blood and fish meat, but my guts and lungs and everything else, just puking and puking, my mouth stretching open as it all came out, no one saying nothing about that big horrible messy pile on the sand.

I awoke with a start, drawing a sharp breath as I realized I were back in the room laying next to Gitty. I laid there a moment listening to her quiet breathing, my heart eventually slowing down. It was dark and hot and I could smell my own stink, my damp undies strangling my balls. I lifted my head, looking around the room for Roy but not seeing him, though neither were there much of anything else I could see.

The floor creaked, or the door, or something. I laid there frozen, my hand slowly moving down to my pistol on the floor, my heart beating a little faster again as I waited for the next sound, not knowing if it were just Roy or the old house settling or something else that weren't worth worrying about. Still, I weren't taking no chances. My fingers squeezed the hard rubber grip of my pistol and I waited. Then, not hearing it again I got up, slowly crossing the room. Roy weren't near the fireplace no more, though neither was he anywhere else that I could see.

I made my way outside, the front door of the house long gone, only to see Roy standing there in the moonlight behind the broken white fence, his back facing me. I said his name loud enough that he should have heard but he didn't move, still staring out at the street. Then, coming up alongside him, I followed his eyes, gasping as I grabbed at my pistol.

Standing across the street were the Mexican I thought long gone, that wiry, shirtless man with the black eagle tattoo spread across his chest, his face still painted like a skull.

Roy didn't say nothing as he stood there, and neither did the skeleton man who in the dark of night looked even more frightening than before, like death come to visit, his eyes nothing but black sockets, his white skull face standing out.

So this is where they get us, I thought, this is where there ain't going to be no escape, though after long moments ain't nothing happen.

"Roy," I whispered, not daring to move, "ain't you gonna shoot him?"

"No."

"You want me to?"

"No."

"Then what?"

He didn't answer. The three of us just stood there, each side looking at the other, though the eyes of the Mexican were fixed on Roy. Weren't no anger in them, or some sign that he was planning to do us harm. He was just calm, motionless, or at least that's how it seemed from the distance I was looking at him, though with those painted black sockets I couldn't tell for sure.

Roy broke his stare, looking down the street one way then up the other, then, with a final glance at the skeleton man standing there in the moonlight, turned and walked back inside. I stood there, sure that in another second he was going to come out again blasting, but it was just me and the Mexican, and after getting spooked from him staring at me I turned and followed Roy back into the house.

He was in the living room, sitting near the fireplace again.

"Roy, what are we going to do? You think we're surrounded?"

"I don't know," he said.

I kept by the window, watching that skull-faced Mexican who was just standing there calmly watching the house. Then he moved, sitting down on the curb.

"He's sitting down now, Roy!"

He didn't say nothing.

"Roy!"

"Get away from the window. If they were going to attack us, they would have done it by now. Or if he was."

"Hell, we can't just do nothing! Gitty, wake up!"

She was sleeping so deep she didn't hear me, and not wanting to let the Mexicans know I was panicking, I didn't want to shout.

"Leave her be. No use in waking her up just yet."

I couldn't believe he was being so calm about it, though I kept watching, that crazy skeleton man never moving, the smell of one of Roy's funny cigars filling my nose. After a while I realized how tired I was and started wondering if I were dreaming, like if it were just another nightmare I was suffering after dreaming about eating the fish and puking up my guts. I must have watched him most the night until at last, my head spinning and my eyes sore, I went and laid down next to Gitty, my pistol resting on my chest. I guess Roy was right. If them Mexicans was going to attack they would have done it already. Then what was the skeleton man up to? I didn't know. I kept trying to make sense of it but I couldn't make sense of anything, and eventually, no matter how hard I fought it, my eyes shut.