After the End: Survival (12 page)

"Everything OK?" Mona asked Tank Top.

"No problemo. Kinda slow tonight."

"Sure. That's because most of law enforcement's over here."

The two snickered over this.

"Paul this is Pete. Pete needs a quiet place where he can talk to Kim for a few minutes."

The two men nodded warily to each other.

"So, just how quiet does it have to be?"

"Paul, they just need to talk. For the time being, anyway."

"How about that hallway just off the entrance?" Pete suggested.

"Cool. You'll likely want to let her to bring some food. They’ve been bitching how hungry they are."

"As long as I can bring a plate myself. Thanks Mona." Turning back to Paul, he said, "I'll be over there waiting for y'all."

Kim was tall and blond. Pete recalled a wizened rancher once describing a beautiful woman. "More curves than a barrel of snakes."

Healthy appetite, too. Kim was exuberantly licking sauce from her fingers, starting with her thumb and working her way down to each pinkie in turn.

"God, this is good. Can I borrow one of your napkins?"

Pete handed her a napkin, and she grinned apologetically. Pete noticed some corn stuck between her front teeth.

Looks like one happy kernel of corn.

"We're allowed to get seconds, right?" she asked.

"It's all you can eat," he said smiling. Kim was about eighteen. His own daughter, had she lived, would have been just a couple of years younger.

Kim drank some iced tea, sighed contentedly, and leaned back in her chair. Paul was sitting about twenty feet down the hall, eating, ignoring them both.

"This is about Susan, right?"

"That's right."

"Jeez, I'm sorry she's dead. Like, we weren't exactly friends? But we were still kind of close, if you know what I mean."

Pete had no idea what she meant, but nodded sagely.

"How did you meet her?"

"Well, after the Change, I'd moved in with a couple of different families. I moved out of the first one when the man there started getting kind of creepy. You know. Then, at the second place, they were pretty nice and all, but the guy there wouldn't let me out at night unless I was back by, like, ten o'clock, and it was like I was in jail or something. I mean I'm not a little girl, OK, and these people are all the time asking me, ‘Where are you going, who are you going to be with, what time will you be back.’ Geez. So one day I just packed up and moved over to Easy's place, you know where that is? And it was OK living there. I mean the food sucked, and you had to do all your own laundry and the guys there were kind of gross sometimes. Like really gross." Her face wrinkled with distaste. "But it was kind of nice to be able to not have to ask permission to do stuff."

"How long ago was it you moved there?"

"A year ago last spring."

"Was Susan already there?"

"No, but she moved in right after I got there so we got to be kind of roommates. She was like a little sister. We'd go scrounge together sometimes and I'd tell her how to deal with guys. She was sort of messed up. You know that Dingman preacher dude? He'd been screwing her and telling her it was God's will, or some such shit. I kept telling her not to think about it so much, because guys'll tell you anything to get laid. But really I think the guy's a pervert 'cause, I mean, she's so young, you know?" Kim looked at Pete, hoping for agreement.

Pete nodded, his eyes flat.

Kim continued, somewhat reassured.

"So how did she die?"

"Some guy raped her, beat her, strangled her and cut her with a knife."

"Ugh.” She shook her head. “She was such a skinny little thing. She used to make herself puke all the time. Sometimes, I'd start talking to her after she'd eat, or make her come out with me and go scrounging, and she'd, like, forget to puke. It was about all I could do. A few times I went to church with her. You know Leonard Goss? He's pretty cool. He's nice, you know, but doesn't make a big deal about it. Some guys act like they're sweet and wonderful and all, and ten minutes later they expect you to go down on them." She rolled her eyes.

"When did you last see her?"

"Oh, let me think. I started at Mona's a couple of months ago. I went back to visit a few times, really just to see how Susan was doing. Tammie was sort of keeping an eye on her, but some of those guys were doing them both whenever they felt like it. Seems like Susan was getting so skinny guys were starting to leave her alone. OK. The last time I saw her was maybe two weeks ago. We didn't do much, just visited. She was talking about maybe moving over to Goss's place. I told her she ought to, on account they're pretty nice people. I wish she would have."

"Did she mention any strange guys around, anyone she felt afraid of, or even just someone paying attention to her?"

"Hmm. Well, maybe. She said the last couple of times after church some guy with a horse would try to give her chocolate. She hated candy because she thought it might make her fat."

"Was he at the church?"

"No. It wasn't at the church, it was somewhere between there and Easy's place. She didn't ever say where."

"Did she say what he looked like?"

"Nope. Just some guy with a horse. You think he might be who killed her?"

"Don't know. Try and think back. Did she say any thing else about this guy?"

Kim squeezed her eyes shut to concentrate.

"No. I don't think so."

"Kim, you've been real helpful. If you remember anything else, let me know. Mona'll know how to get hold of me."

On an impulse he reached into his pocket and withdrew the crucifix Susan had put in her pocket, perhaps knowing she would soon be dead. He handed it to Kim.

"I think she would have wanted you to have this."

"Oh wow. Her cross! You know, she was such a nice little thing. I'm going to miss her. She had her problems, just like everyone. But she wouldn't ever hurt anyone. It's just not right." She was quiet for a moment, and then brightened a little.

"You're kind of a nice old guy." She looked at him expectantly. "Aren’t you going to ask me how come?"

Pete looked a little bewildered.

"What do you mean?"

"How come I work over at Mona's. Especially the old guys want to know. OK, I'll tell you. It was like, at Easy's, guys were always hitting on me. You know, like wanting to have intercourse," she explained primly. "And a few times, they were like, crazy, and I got kind of scared. The food was bad and the house was either really hot or really cold, depending on when it was. I just got tired of all the hassle.

"It's pretty nice at Mona's. We've each got these little fans in our rooms, and this lady cooks all our food for us. We've got this huge living room. Guys don't give us trouble because of Paul.

"Hey Paul! You gonna beat up somebody tonight?"

Paul continued to eat, ignoring them.

"It's pretty nice," she repeated.

In the gathering twilight, five miles south, a man sat in the shadows of a vacant house. He was observing a group of children playing basketball in a parking lot next to Westover Park School. One of the youngsters, twelve year old Laura, sat on a curb and watched the game. She didn't play very well, and for the last half hour had been content to just watch. Growing bored, she waved to the kids on the court and said, "I gotta go home. See ya." A few of them yelled back their goodbyes and continued to play. As she trudged home, she heard a man's voice.

"Yancy! Here, Yancy! Where are you, boy?"

She looked over between two houses and saw a man who looked up at her at the same time.

"Hi," he said. "I'm looking for my dog. He's about this tall," he said, indicating the height with his hand, "and's kind of reddish colored. Probably the only pooch in the world who likes chocolate," he added with a grin.

"Your dog eats chocolate?"

"Sure," he said, still smiling. "M&M's are his favorite, but he'll eat almost anything, as long as it's chocolate."

"You've got M&M's?" This from a girl who hadn't seen "store bought" candy in more than two years.

"Sure," he said, holding out a bag and shaking it. "Would you like some? Melts in your mouth, not in your hand!"

"Yes, sir!"

She actually ran to him.

The dinner was winding down. The mayor had given a brief speech, thanking everyone present for their help in making the community ‘strong and stable.’ He focused on the ‘Progress’ theme, tying it in with cooperation between departments and the public. And he hinted at future developments that would continue to improve the lives of area residents.

Rooms were available to anyone who didn't feel like making the late night journey home. Pretty handy, since the building had once been a hotel.

Pete had gotten into his ‘party mode,’ which consisted of drinking, eating and walking around the room talking with individuals and small groups. He was pleasantly tired and happily drunk, the first time he'd had more than a single drink at a sitting in two years.

Time for bed. He ambled over to the checkout desk, where Patty White, pensively tapping a pencil eraser to her front teeth, assigned him a room.

"Patty, if your eyes were any redder, I'd swear they were on fire."

The sheriff's dispatcher laughed as she handed him his key.

"Pete, if you knew how hot things were going to get, you'd be packin' a fire extinguisher."

He laughed politely, having no idea what she was talking about. He figured on telling James Snyder maybe his pot was a little too potent.

The band was packing up, and he yelled a "Thanks guys!" across the room to them as he headed to the stairs. They ignored him. At the top of the dimly lit stairwell, Larry Maxwell of KAMR fame was engaged in some serious necking with Marilyn Holman, the grocer’s wife. Pete waved to the couple but was ignored again. He walked down the hall to his room, and it took just two attempts to unlock the door. Kicking off his shoes, he stumbled into the bathroom for a quick, warm water shower. He'd heard engineer Chick Barrett had plumbed a number of waterbed mattresses together on the roof of the building, and used the sun to warm the water. Have to see how he does that, Pete thought. In winter, wouldn't the water freeze overnight? And how does he pump the water up to the roof? The man is really clever, he decided, brushing his teeth. "Please Turn Off Light When Not In Use," read the sign by bathroom light switch. He peered at the light fixture. It was an LED taillight. OK, twelve volt system, wonder where he keeps the batteries. He sprawled back on his bed, a cool breeze stirring the curtains slightly.

Someone knocked on the door.

"Shit," he muttered. Opening the door, he looked into an empty hallway.

He heard the knock again, and then realized it was coming from inside his room. He walked over to the connecting door, feeling a little bewildered.

And behind door number two, we have...

Brenda Farley. Wearing a sheer black nightgown over a black teddy.

"Hi, Pete. Care to join me for a nightcap?"

"Uh, sure. Not at all. What do you want? I'll run downstairs and get it." He said it at the same time seeing a wet bar in a room that was obviously part of a suite.

"Oh, don't worry about that. I think we've got everything we need right here."

And taking him by the hand, she led him in.

Pete woke up the next morning, nude, alone, and in a strange bed. Sitting up, he waited a moment for his head to stop spinning, and looked around. There was a note on Brenda's pillow.

"Thanks, Pete," she'd written. "You were just what I needed."

Yep. That's what they all say.

"Sorry, honey." He had thought of his wife. He wondered briefly if there was a heaven, and was she watching him now. Feeling pangs of guilt.

"Well heck, it's been three years," he said aloud. His conscience didn't feel convinced.

Picking up his jeans from the floor, he shuffled into his room. He got dressed, brushed his teeth, and began the arduous trek down the single flight of stairs to the lobby.

"Coffee," he muttered. "I have a real and tangible need for caffeine."

Walking into the nearly empty lobby, the first thing he noticed was the smell of coffee.

There is a God.

Walking over to the large urn, he poured himself a cup. Judy Gilliam, the new nurse, was sitting by herself at one of the tables. He walked over and sat next to her.

"Morning," he said.

"You look bright eyed and bushy-tailed. Bushy tailed, anyway. How'd you sleep?"

"Mostly on my left side," he answered, sipping his coffee. "Actually, I slept pretty good once I got to sleep."

Which was about an hour and a half ago.

"Pete! There you are." It was Brenda Farley. Oh shit.

"I called up to your room, but there was no answer, so I thought you might be down here."

Brenda looked alert, well-rested, and all business. She walked across the lobby from the mayor's office.

"Hi, Brenda."

"And a good morning to you. Hello, Judy. Pete, I'm sorry to bother you so early, but the sheriff wants you ASAP. I'm afraid it's bad news. There's been another girl killed, this one near Westover School. He wanted me to tell you to head over there. They won't move the body till you arrive."

"Tell him I'll be right over." Standing, he took another sip of his coffee and glanced at the retreating figure of Brenda Farley. What a great body.

"Pete, if it's all right, can I come?" asked Judy.

Right here, now, and in a public place? Snap out of it. Work mode.

"Fine with me. You can either ride along or follow in your car."

"I think I'll just follow you. I can head back to Claude without you having to bring me back here."

They drove south on Coulter Avenue. The prevailing south wind had shifted to the north, and Pete noticed a bank of dark clouds in his rear view mirror.

Maybe we'll get some rain out of this. He rolled up his car window, the north wind quickly dropping the temperature.

He saw several vehicles parked in front of a two story house just north of the school and pulled up behind one of them. As he walked up to the house, he saw a deputy braced against the side of a truck, quietly vomiting on the driveway. Sheriff Rob Westlake came out of the home's front door, ignoring the deputy.