After (Book 3): Milepost 291 (20 page)

CHAPTER
THIRTY-SIX

Just
before the match burned down to a tiny red dot, DeVontay saw other figures
behind Rooster. He had the impression there were maybe three others, haggard
and frantic-eyed. Then the light winked out and the room fell into darkness,
with only the faint haze from the window providing illumination. Their
breathing was loud and labored, as if they’d been running.

“You
broke your word,” Rooster said. “You said you were one of us.”

“Everybody
left,” DeVontay said, refusing to allow fear into his voice. “Zaps overran the
compound. I didn’t see any reason to stay there and be killed.”

“That
compound was all we had left.”

“Then
why did
you
leave?” He couldn’t see Rooster’s face, but the barrel of
his gun glinted in the weak light. It was still pointed at DeVontay.

“Maybe
I should blow your brains out right here,” Rooster said. “Ain’t no room in this
world for traitors.”

DeVontay
would have welcomed death, but now he had not just Stephen but a whole group
counting on him. In Before, when he’d been a kid in South Philly, he never belonged—not
on sports teams, not in the street gangs, not even in his family. He could
hardly accept this image of himself as someone who would sacrifice for others,
but that’s exactly what he’d done, almost against his will.

Because
you keep finding people worth fighting for.

And
the best way he could help Stephen, Kiki, and the others would be to stall for
time so they could escape. But what were their chances out there alone? Maybe
he should tell Rooster about his group, so that they might provide protection
and shelter. After all, Rooster had considered them valuable enough to feed and
shelter, even if he’d treated them like human livestock.

But
Rooster’s voice contained a dangerous edge, like that of a man walked to the
end of a gangplank. If he’d been unhinged before, watching his utopian vision
crumble might have snapped his last few tethers of reality.

“How
many others got away?” DeVontay asked. “Maybe in the morning we can get them
together and take back the compound.”

One
of the unseen men said, “We’ve been watching the road. You didn’t come that
way.”

“I
came through the woods. Zaps were blocking the gate.”

“Where’s
your gun?”

“Lost
it.”

“What
about the women and kids?”

“I…I
don’t know. I guess they’re still there, if the Zapheads didn’t get them.”

“Bullshit,”
Rooster said. “You wouldn’t have left them there.”

“Well,
you
did.” Goading Rooster was a dangerous game, but he’d already lost
this hand anyway. His best chance was to bluff his way into an extra round.

“He
was best buddies with one of those boys,” said a woman whose voice he
recognized. Angelique’s. “Like he knew him from before the compound. He
wouldn’t have left that boy there.”

DeVontay
wondered if Stephen could hear the conversation. Hopefully the boy was already
running back to Kiki and the others. But he was worried that Stephen would
consider running a cowardly act. Maybe DeVontay had proven to be a worse role
model than he thought.

“Shut
up, Angelique,” Rooster said. “If you had stayed there like I told you, we’d
know where everybody was.”

“If
I had stayed, I’d probably be Zaphead bait by now,” she said. “But they were
all alive when I left. And this guy was playing Clint Eastwood, trying to lead
them to safety.”

Rooster
lit another match, and this time the globe of light revealed Rooster’s
sneering, mad face. “So where are they?”

“I
guess they’re all dead,” DeVontay said. “When we hit the woods, Zaps were
everywhere. When I heard the screams, I just started running.”

“So
you were a hero and then you were chickenshit.” Rooster pushed the muzzle of
his gun against DeVontay’s forehead just as the match extinguished. “Which are
you now?”

“Chickenshit,”
DeVontay said, without emotion. The afterimage of orange flares danced across
his vision as darkness returned.

“Pop
him, Rooster,” said an unseen man.

“Right,
dumbass. This quiet, in the middle of the night, the Zapheads could hear the
shot from miles around.”

“Just
let me go,” DeVontay said “I’ll keep moving, and that will draw any Zaps that
might be around. I’ve done it before.”

“Oh,
want to play hero again? Well, I think you’re bullshitting instead of
chickenshitting.”

“Shh,”
said Angelique. “I heard something.”

They
all fell silent, and DeVontay thought his heart might boom like a kettle drum
in the small, dark kitchen. Because he’d heard something, too, and it sounded
like Stephen’s voice.

Rooster
moved past DeVontay and his silhouette filled the window as he looked out.
“Don’t see nothing,” he whispered.

“If
it’s Zapheads, you better not leave me again,” Angelique said.

“Quit
your bitching,” Rooster said. “You’re getting to be more trouble than you’re
worth. Washburn, get back there and check the other side of the house.”

A
set of footsteps shuffled slowly through the house, fingers feeling along the
wall. Washburn must have bumped into some furniture because he hissed a “Shit”
before continuing.

“DeVontay!”
Stephen loud-whispered from outside.

Be
quiet
, DeVontay silently pleaded, but
it was too late.

“It’s
one of the brats,” Angelique said.

Rooster
jabbed his rifle into DeVontay’s side hard enough to bruise his ribs and
whispered, “Open the door and tell him to come in.”

DeVontay
felt behind him and eased his way along the counter. The back door featured a
high, narrow pane of glass so he could locate it. He paused with his palm on
the handle, but Rooster poked him again, this time in the spinal cord, and
cinders of pain flew up the chimney of his central nervous system.

DeVontay
opened the door and yelled, “Stephen, run!”

Then
an avalanche of red and black shards rumbled down the slopes of his skull and
his vision went gray. He fell to his knees, blood trickling down his scalp.
Even while fighting for consciousness after the blow to his head, he had the
presence of mind to grab Rooster’s legs as the man tried to step over him and
go outside. Rooster cursed and tumbled down a flight of several wooden steps,
and another man stepped up to the doorway and lifted his rifle.

DeVontay
looked up, head reeling, and saw Stephen’s diminutive silhouette bobbing through
the weeds as he fled back to the forest. The gray mist had nearly swallowed him
already.

Good
boy
, DeVontay thought.

A
muzzle flash above him was followed by a sudden thunderclap. Stephen dropped
into the weeds and DeVontay’s heart squeezed in rage. He scissor-kicked with
his legs and threw the gunman above him off balance.

Rooster
shouted, “Don’t shoot, you idiot, the Zappers will be all over us.”

“You
said to take them all down,” the man said, skipping away from DeVontay’s reach.
“Anybody who runs is a traitor, you said.”

“You
don’t need to kill them,” Rooster said, getting to his feet. “Come on. The
little shit will lead us right to the others.”

DeVontay
half-rolled and half-crawled down the rest of the steps until he was wallowing
in the wet grass. Even though he could hardly tell up from down, he tried to
rise.

A
muddy boot pressed against his cheek. “New plan,” Rooster said. “We’re going to
Milepost 291, and you’re leading the way. That son-of-a-bitch Franklin Wheeler
probably has a paradise up there, from what I’ve heard.”

“I
don’t know what you’re talking about,” DeVontay said, his words muffled with
his mouth pressed against the grass.

“The
boy told us all about it. We need a new compound since the Zaps took ours.”

DeVontay
hoped Kiki had followed his instructions and fled at the sound of the gunshot.
But they wouldn’t get far, and they had little chance after that. “I won’t help
you unless you take them all with you.”

“Deal.”
Rooster yanked DeVontay to his feet and shoved him in the direction that
Stephen had fled. “Stay awake, guys,” he called to his underlings. “Zaps might
be on the prowl.”

DeVontay
was relieved to see Stephen’s head rise up from the weeds, then duck down
again. The shot must have missed. And Stephen was smart enough to stay out of
sight. DeVontay just hoped the boy would obey the orders he’d given.

He’s
just a boy. I can help the others more by staying with Rooster than by dying
right now.

Or
maybe that was justification imposed by his fear. Sacrificing for others had
been thrust upon him, but martyrdom was a choice. And a role he wasn’t ready to
accept. He headed up the meadow, Rooster right behind him.

Out
in the hazy moonlight, the mist rising and collecting, he could see that
Rooster had four others with him, including Angelique. That was a lot of
firepower. Angelique whined about the wet and cold but Rooster told her to quit
bitching.

“Let’s
get there before the Zaps do,” Rooster said, shoving DeVontay forward.

“So
how do you know Franklin Wheeler?” Stephen had likely told Rooster about Rachel
and her connection to Franklin, but DeVontay hoped she was far away from these
maniacs.

“Used
to read his Internet posts. I tried to hook up with him, start a branch of the
Patriot Party, but he played it like he was hot shit on a silver platter. Like
he was too good for the rest of us freedom fighters.”

“I’m
not even sure the compound exists. Feels like chasing a mirage to me.”

“Some
of my men spotted him in the valley. We were trying to lure him in and take him
out, but then the Zaps attacked.”

“With
everybody dead, there’s room for all of us,” DeVontay said, peering into the
mist. The forest was invisible now, and so was the house behind them. They
slogged through the wet, cold smoke of the river valley that seemed to stretch forever
in all directions.

“It’s
a Zaphead world now, boy,” Rooster said. “But I’m going to get my piece of it.
One way or another.”

“Just
take care of these kids and I’ll take you to Milepost 291,” DeVontay said,
moving faster, worried about Kiki, Stephen, and the others. “We’re all in it
together. We’re all that’s left.”

“That’s
the spirit,” Rooster said. “Live free or die.”

CHAPTER
THIRTY-SEVEN

Oh
no. I screwed up bad
.

Stephen
wasn’t supposed to yell at DeVontay. He was supposed to wait until DeVontay
checked out the house, opened the door, and given the “all clear” signal. But
waiting outside in the grass, he’d heard noises around him—the sloppy mush of
footsteps, the creaking of wood, and the splash of things crawling up from the
river. And the mist had thickened until he could barely see the house.

Then
DeVontay didn’t open the door and tell him to come in. He’d told him to run.
He’d even called Stephen by his name, not “Little Man” like he usually did, so
DeVontay must be mad at him. And it sounded like somebody else was inside the
house, talking. Then he’d heard the crack and dropped down, because it sounded
like a gun.

Who
were they shooting at? Zapheads?

He
couldn’t see Kiki and James and the rest of the group. All he saw was the fog
and the wet grass right in front of him. He might be surrounded by Zapheads
right now and not even know it.

All
he could do was head back in the direction where the group might be. The
moonlight made a big haze overhead, so he could see just well enough to keep
running. He was afraid to call out for Kiki because then the Zapheads might
hear him.

If
only DeVontay could tell him what to do. There must be a reason DeVontay
couldn’t call out. He thought he heard people talking, so maybe others had been
hiding in the house. Maybe they were scared of Zapheads.

His
clothes were wet and he shivered, even though now he was sweating. He heard
somebody yelling behind him. Maybe he should slow down and just duck into the
grass until they passed. But if Zapheads were all around, they’d get him. He
couldn’t stand to be alone. He’d barely made it after getting separated from
Rachel—all because he was afraid of a stupid snake—and if he screwed up again
because he was scared, DeVontay would probably call him Little Baby instead of
Little Man.

“Do
you see anything?” a man yelled. It wasn’t DeVontay. That meant DeVontay wasn’t
alone right now, which was good news if there were Zapheads around, because
DeVontay didn’t carry a gun.

But
some of the men at the compound were bad. They were mean to the women and
children, and the ones that had found Stephen wandering around in the woods
made fun of him and wouldn’t let him eat until they stuck him in that stinky
building with the other kids. He’d told Rooster about Milepost 291 because he
wanted Rooster to think he was important, not just some stupid kid.

Stephen
had to slow down because he couldn’t see well enough to run anymore. He wasn’t
even sure he was heading back to the group. Maybe he was walking toward the
road that ran alongside the river. DeVontay said Zapheads were more likely to
see you if you were out in the open like that, which is why it was better to
stick to the woods or else hide inside houses.

But
most of the houses had dead people inside them that smelled like rotten old
fruit. That was one reason DeVontay wanted to check out the house himself, even
though he didn’t say so. DeVontay was trying to protect him.

Stephen
remembered being trapped in the hotel room with his dead mom and what it was
like to see her turn all pale and bloated and hear creepy gurgling noises come
out of her throat. He loved her but was afraid to touch her or even look at
her, and he felt ashamed of that. It was his mom, after all.

But
DeVontay and Rachel had rescued him, and they’d been good to him. Almost like
family. Maybe even better than family. Stephen told them he wanted to go to
Mi’ssippi to find his dad, but in truth, he didn’t really want to see his dad.
It just seemed like the thing you were supposed to do. Rachel and DeVontay
talked about getting to their families, too, and that’s why they were headed to
Milepost 291 in the first place.

Right
now, both Milepost 291 and Mi’ssippi might as well be a million miles away,
because he couldn’t even find Kiki and the others, and they were probably not
even a mile away. He didn’t know how far a mile was. Probably as far as he
could walk. But the mist sure made a mile seem a lot longer.

“I
heard something,” a man hollered from the far end of the mist. “Over here.”

Stephen
was almost glad because the man was moving farther away from him. That proved
Stephen’s idea of running was better than just ducking down in the weeds and
hiding, because they would have found him by now. If he could outsmart them,
then DeVontay might not be as mad at him.

So
he kept running, or at least jogging, even though he was breathing hard and his
side hurt. He headed uphill, where the mist seemed way darker. He guessed the
woods were beyond it, with the mist weaving in and out of the trees to make a
wall. He could hide there until he figured out what to do. But being alone was
too scary. And the group couldn’t be much farther away unless they were already
in the woods.

Then
he heard James nearby: “I can’t see anything!”

James
was too dumb to stay quiet like he was supposed to. A couple of kids were
crying. Little babies. They didn’t know that being afraid only made things
worse. Kiki and Carole were telling them to hush and stick together, but they
sounded scared, too.

Stephen
wanted to yell at them. Why didn’t they hide in the woods like DeVontay told
them? Didn’t anybody listen anymore? Did they get scared and do stupid stuff
like Stephen did?

If only
Rachel was here, Stephen would feel better. Kiki was smart and nice, and she
did a good job caring for the kids, but she wasn’t tough like Rachel.

And
why is Rachel not here? Because you got scared and did stupid stuff!

He
changed his plans and headed toward the voices. The least Stephen could do to
make up for his mistake would be to lead them all into the woods to safety.
Then, when DeVontay got away from the rest of the men and found them, he’d tell
Stephen what a good job he’d done. He’d call him a Brave Little Man. Something
like that was worth the risk.

Some
kid was bawling and sniffling, giving away their position even in the thick
fog. Couldn’t Kiki slap a hand over the kid’s mouth? It was probably Jeremiah,
that kid who kept farting because he needed a special diet. Between the farts
and the whimpers, Jeremiah was a real downer. If Stephen had his choice, he’d
have left Jeremiah in the big building.

But
DeVontay said they were all in it together. Maybe DeVontay was just doing it so
that Kiki would kiss him, but DeVontay was brave, so he probably really meant
it.

Then
he heard James almost right in front of him saying “I see somebody.” James
wasn’t even smart enough to keep his voice down. James was almost Stephen’s age
but no way would DeVontay ever call
him
Little Man.

“Shush,
James, it’s me,” Stephen whispered.

Kiki
called to him.

He
pushed through the grass and there they were, the kids all whining and bawling
and sniffling like scared brats, the blanket all tramped down and soggy, half
the food gone. Kiki gave him a hug and asked him where DeVontay was, and he was
ashamed to admit he didn’t know. But DeVontay would want him to lead the group
now, not sit around feeling sorry for himself.

“Why
didn’t you leave when you heard the shot?” Stephen asked.

“We
thought it might be DeVontay,” Kiki said.

Stephen
didn’t want to confess that he’d messed up. “He’s down there somewhere. He told
me to come back and get everyone to hide in the woods.”

But
that strange man’s voice came again, this time real, real close, and it said,
“The woods ain’t safe for children.”