After the End: Survival (22 page)

They walked slowly to the car. Judy watched in amazement as Cathy Snyder suddenly broke from the group and ran toward them. Young and lithe, she was smiling at Decker, looking at him as though he were a long lost friend.

Or lover.

"Don't you remember me?" she said. "Us two, we wrestled." Her voice was coy, teasing.

"Hell yes, I remember. You were real sweet. And you clobbered me with my own pipe. The one that got away."

She gazed at him with upturned eyes.

"Take me with you. Take me away from this place. I'll be nice to you."

Decker looked her over, and grinned. Be nice to have some young stuff around. And this one liked it, he could tell.

"When you've had the best, it's hard to accept anything less, right honey? Sure, you can come, but you've got to do like Daddy says, all the time, all right?"

Cathy smiled and nodded. Judy felt like she was in the middle of a bad dream. How could this girl even stand to be near the man she claimed had abused her so terribly? Had she lied about the circumstances surrounding her assault?

"Now then, nurse-lady, I want you to reach into your pocket and pull out your car keys so we’ll be all ready to go. Sweetie pie, I want you to go around and open the door."

Pete had watched in disbelief as Cathy Snyder ran towards Bobby Decker and Judy.

"Cathy!” her father had called out to her, but she ignored him, her long hair tossing side-to-side as she ran.

The picture of innocence.

Their voices were just murmurs, but the girl was smiling and Decker was smiling too, and then Judy reached into her pocket and pulled out some keys. Cathy took them and walked behind the gunman and his hostage. She reached back to her waistband and pulled out a small pistol that she held to the back of Decker's head. Pete heard a muffled pop and then Decker dropped down to his knees. Cathy fired again. Decker fell over sideways, quivered once and quit moving.

Cathy broke the stunned silence.

"That son of a bitch raped me."

In the Texas Panhandle autumn arrives in November. It is not highlighted by changing leaves offering spectacular displays of color. Instead, it’s as though the trees reach a logical conclusion:
it's Fall
. Time to dump those damn leaves. From green to brown and off the trees, taking less than a week to complete the job.

As though to compensate, the weather becomes particularly pleasant, with warm sunny days and cool crisp nights. Some mornings feature a ground cover of pure white when frost blankets the region. A few minutes of sunlight and frost transitions to a heavy dew. Livestock and wildlife forage on the still-green grasses.

It’s a busy time. Most of the vegetables have been canned. Potatoes, carrots and onions have been stored in basements or in barrels buried underground. Cattle and hogs are slaughtered, the cool nights giving the hanging carcasses time to age.

There's a lot of visiting among families this time of year. The men, often with beery breath, hoist the freshly killed animals from their hindquarters, steaming entrails falling to the ground.

Amarillo's entertainment district is an area near I-40 and Georgia Street. The two brothels there are situated near each other at one edge of a former shopping center. The girls aren't allowed to solicit for customers. It is a matter of pride that they don't have to.

The evening is warm and still. Business is a little slow and a few of the ladies are sitting outside on benches, gossiping and listening to music from a bar a couple doors away. The movie at the theater down the street has just ended and people are slowly exiting the double doors and walking into the night.

"They got a pretty good crowd for a Sunday," said a brunette. A low cut white tank top displays ample breasts. One of her older regulars always calls her "June Cleavage." She guesses it's some kind of joke. He’s a nice old guy who mostly just wants to talk.

"Yeah, it's
Waterworld
this weekend," says a frizzy blonde. "Have you seen it?"

"Uh-huh. A long time ago. That one guy had a cute ass, but the story's kind of lame."

"That's what I thought."

The two fall silent. A couple emerges from the theater, their arms occasionally touching as they walk along the sidewalk.

"What did you think of the movie?” Pete asks.

"Which one?" Judy Gilliam, with a light shawl over her shoulders, was smiling. "The Bruce Lee short feature or
Waterworld
?"

"
Waterworld
."

"Oh, I don't know. Kevin Costner is kind of cute as a human ‘Flipper,’ but I thought the plot was a little weak."

"Really? I thought there were a lot of similarities between that fictional reality and the present. OK, for example, you take..."

"Hello, Dr. Wilson." It was the brunette. "Did you enjoy the movie?"

"Yes. It was good. Thanks."

They continue walking, silent for a moment.

"You seem to have friends everywhere," Judy remarks.

"It’s more like a business relationship. The city has Dr. Flood and me conducting physicals at the brothels. Once a month. The young ladies are city employees." He grins. "Jealous?"

"Me? Hey, Mister, I've got the same equipment they've got. But we both know there's more to a relationship than a pair of warm bodies."

Pete takes Judy's hand and they walk across the parking lot.

"I saw Cathy Snyder in town with her parents yesterday," Pete says.

"How's she doing?"

"Pretty good, I think. Everybody sure is friendlier to her and her family."

"She performed a real public service that day at the cemetery. I heard Brenda Farley is trying to get Cathy and her little girl to move into town. She wants to hire her as an assistant at the city office."

"Grandpa might object. He loves that little grandbaby."

Leaning against an abandoned car, they hold hands, and look into the sky. The stars are brilliant. The night is still. Judy turns and puts her arms around Pete, her face against his shoulder. Pete pulls her against him. He inhales deeply and her hair smells clean and fresh. His eyes stay focused on the sky.

And life goes on.