After The Virus (7 page)

“It’s a hotel, for stopping by, not staying,” he stated firmly.
 

“Right,” Big countered. “But the houses —”
 

“Not available,” he interrupted.

“I told you, I told you he weren’t gonna forgive for me trying to kill him,” Stupid moaned.

“That ain’t it, is it Tex?” Big asked.

“You’re welcome to stay a couple of days while you figure out where you’ll head,” he offered, though even that was longer than he liked.

“The world’s our oyster, hey?” Big eyed him thoroughly, but kept his tone light.

Will nodded, and unexpectedly, found he had to look away.

“You’re a hard man, Tex,” Big stated, and almost as an afterthought, he added, “You must have something really very precious to protect.”

“We’re leaving then, Big?” Stupid tested out the new nickname.

“The road south is clear for about four car hours, at least,” Will offered.

“Yeah, you been busy, we seen, Tex. We just hoped… we’re good people, we hoped you’d take us in, maybe lead us, like.” Big didn’t want to beg.

“You got me mixed up with someone. I’m no leader. Can barely take care of myself.” He needed to leave before he got talked into anything. He stepped back off the veranda. “I have some fresh blueberries I’ll bring ‘round tomorrow morning,” he offered as pitiful consolation.

“That’s kind of you, Tex, real kind.” Big gave him a mini salute. Stupid managed to look actually sorrowful as he lit another cigarette.

He felt their eyes the whole way out of town. Of course, he headed the opposite way and had to double back to get home.

∞

Rhiannon had waited up.

“Was it… was it about me again?” she asked tentatively from her vantage point on the sofa. She and Snickers both had shotguns at the ready.

“ ’Course not,” Will replied evenly. “Just a group. They understand they need to be moving on; wouldn’t be surprised if they’re gone by morning.”

He saw something there, etched in Rhiannon’s face. But candlelight didn’t provide illumination, and then Snickers raised her arms to him. She’d never asked to be carried to bed before. For a smaller man, she’d be too big for it, but right now he welcomed the distraction.

∞

By morning, he wished he’d taken the time to decipher Rhiannon. But by then it was too late, and he’d lost all his girls.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

RHIANNON

She’d waited until they all were asleep, including B.B. Actually, she listened to them breathe for a while before she tore herself away.

Then she wrote a note to leave on the kitchen table. She didn’t use the word love, but she meant it. She wrote about their safety instead. She thanked them for taking care of her and B.B. She had too much to say and not enough paper; her writing was cramped and messy at the end. She asked Snickers to take care of B.B., mostly because she’d feel better if the dog was always at the girl’s side, shotgun or no shotgun.

She also left the strawberry plant, still happy in its bigger pot. She hoped Snickers would plant it and it would provide sweet treats for years.

She thought, momentarily, that she might die from the pain of it; just sitting there, bent over that note, but her death wouldn’t protect them. She had to be seen, separate from them, by the relevant parties. She’d worry about getting sighted and then getting away later. It didn’t matter where Shotgun Asshole and his buddy were currently, because they had to eventually follow the river to get to the city.

She mapped a direct route rather than the meander she’d taken here, avoiding the village. She didn’t need another group recognizing her.

She had asked them not to follow, and Will would accept her decision. Not that he wouldn’t disagree or fight; he just picked winnable battles.

She’d thought about making love to him tonight, but was sure he would hate her even more by morning if she could leave after such intimacy. She’d never broken up with anyone. She always played it out to the ruined end. In this case, leaving was a gesture of true love, not hate.

∞

She didn’t bother traveling by night, except the first one. The point was to be seen, but by day two, she was worried they’d outpaced her. She should have known that Shotgun Asshole never planned to return empty-handed, but was simply regrouping before selecting his next route. There was only one way, along the edge of the river, out of the mountains. From there, if you kept to the road, you had three routes to chose from.

First time out, they must have taken the low road and wound up four hours south of Will’s village. It was just luck, or perhaps fate, that she, Will, and Snickers had been scavenging there that day. The village itself wasn’t on any of the three direct routes. She had randomly twisted and turned until she found Will.

∞

This time, without their monster, they wouldn’t be on foot so neither was she. A car wasn’t feasible, but a Vespa worked just fine. She ignored the harsh irony that Will had given her the scooter so she would never feel trapped at the house. The road was clear for a bit any direction out of the village — Will had seen to that — but soon she was dodging dead cars with rotting occupants.

She hadn’t realized how accustomed she’d grown to living without being constantly surrounded by death and decay; that was Will’s doing. Why he’d chosen to spend his days cleaning the mess the world had become, the little part he could control, she didn’t know. But she silently thanked him.

She tried to push Will and Snickers out of mind. She’d always been brilliant at focusing, at falling into a part and letting it absorb her. Actually, that was just according to all her paid reviews. She honestly had always thought it was difficult to be different when you had to look perpetually perfect.

So this time, the role consisted of sacrificing herself for the greater good. Well, that was extreme, but she’d certainly lessened, maybe even killed, her chance at happiness and love by leaving. Although, the nagging voice in her head reminded her, maybe there was nothing worth loving in her anymore. Maybe she didn’t deserve Will, Snickers, and B.B.; maybe that white picket fence was, just as she always suspected, only for other real people.

Focus was hard to come by this day.

She’d wanted to bake cookies for Snickers — for her not just with her — like a real mom.
Peanut butter, maybe.

She wanted to run her hand down Will’s neck, across the slope of his muscled shoulder, and grasp his wrist as he was fingering her.

A family. Snickers would set the table and chat about her school day, and Will would secretly kiss her neck while she tossed the stir-fry.

∞

They had laid a trap, probably, though not necessarily, for her; but she fell for it, literally.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

WILL

First thing he saw, in regards to the note, was the child’s yellow crayon scrawl at the bottom that read:
I go get her. Me and B.B. Not worry
. The crayons he had gotten her that first day were left behind. Snickers had always carried them in her backpack. She must have needed the room.

He read the rest of the note. He wondered why he took the time when he couldn’t afford it, but he was compelled to learn Rhiannon’s reasoning.

∞

The village was empty. He had no idea how to track the girls, but he thought Big might. Big was clearly a hunter, but he wasn’t an option now.

Will didn’t even know where the hell Rhiannon had come from.
How could he have never asked? Time had seemed endless. No reason to rush.

He had constructed this haven. Invited her in. She would have been safe here. He would have made sure she was safe… except… he hadn’t.

He gassed a motorcycle, but then worried he would need something that would fit them all for the way back. He decided that would be a good problem to solve.

He didn’t pack; he wasn’t going to stop, so why would he eat or sleep? He headed out of town the way Rhiannon entered; that made some sense.

He guessed Snickers was trying to use B.B. to track Rhiannon. He’d never known that little girls were so smart, resourceful, and obstinate.

He rarely chose to, but he was so going to yell and shout and scream when he found them, hopefully together. Then he might cry, but not now.

He thought, really belatedly, that walkie-talkies might have been a good idea. Or a two-way radio, but then he’d never wanted to find people before.

Rhiannon was, at most, twelve hours ahead and likely on her Vespa, as it hadn’t been parked at the house. She would’ve avoided the village, in case he lied about the group’s intent.

Snickers must be on foot, or maybe a bike; could she ride a bike? Unless… unless she was with Big. No, Big wasn’t that kind of man.
But what if, what if Big wanted to get back at him?
Big was a killer, not in self-defense but cold blood,
his brain maliciously echoed.
No.
He would find Snickers easily, then maybe he’d go after Rhiannon. Snickers might force his decision there, but her safety came first.

He had demanded that promise from Rhiannon, so she left, though he really wished she’d discussed it with him. This was not what he meant. He wondered if he was always destined to drive everyone away or lose people he should have held on to more fiercely.
 

He thought he’d stepped up.

∞

A bug up his nose put a cap on his wallowing. He lowered his head to the wind and pushed the bike. He knew the road well.

It was three days before he set eyes on the girls again, but he never did get to yell, or profess his love, or even see them smile. All he really got was to hear Rhiannon’s scream when Snickers went into the river.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

RHIANNON

How long she’d been out, she wasn’t sure, but it felt like days. Her head killed, and when she opened her eyes, she thought she was blind. Of course, it was just that it was night and dark, but it still took a lot of blinking to gain focus. Even then, all was blurry at the edges.

Then she remembered: the Vespa had suddenly bucked forward and thrown her. She had hoped to hit brush rather than concrete on the way down.

They must have had a wire across the road.

Her hands were tied behind her back and her wrists felt like they’d bled already, so that wasn’t good. At least her limbs were numb. That probably helped with the pain she was pretty sure she should be in. She knew almost instantly by the general lightness of her clothing that they had stripped her of every gun, knife, and even her grenades. Later on, she’d probably be pissed about losing those, but right now she was more concerned about the negative results she was getting from her internal/external wound evaluation.

She had flung her arms up to protect her face before she hit ground — old habits do die hard — so it didn’t feel overly bruised or scraped.

A harsh kick to her right-side ribs immediately informed her that they were badly bruised, if not broken, and she stifled an agonized scream.

“I know yer awake, I saw your eyes open.” She knew this voice. She wondered if he had his shotgun. She didn’t feel like he’d raped her. Ah, the fucking penis; whether it worked or not, it was always about the dick. Women just didn’t obsess about their clits the same way.

She cracked her eyes open again. His boots were inches away from her face and she really hoped it wasn’t her blood splattered on them. She was lying stomach down on a navy blue sleeping bag, but her cheek was currently pressed into packed dirt and embedded with small rocks.

Shotgun Asshole flipped her onto her back. It was awkward to lie on tied arms so she tried to sit, but he pressed a boot to her belly. He hunched down, his shotgun resting on one of his thighs, to look at her. She tried to meet his gaze calmly, but the pain seeping into her arms from the increased blood flow wasn’t helping.

“Was worried you wouldn’t wake; that’s a big bump you got on your head.” He got off on her pain. “Plus, can’t hurt you more if you’re dead.”

Rhiannon tried to retort but found her mouth too dry. Someone tried to give her water, but Asshole grabbed the canteen and gave him/her a shove. He poured the water over her head. She got a bit in her mouth, but most of it pooled between and over her breasts. He noticed, typical scum.

She refused, no matter how injured, to feel scared. She’d gotten away from Asshole before, so she would just do it again. He couldn’t kill her. He saw this realization in her expression, and he raised his hand to slap her, but was grabbed by Buddy, who she could now identify, before he could.

“You know he wants her unharmed!” Buddy frantically hissed, and then looked around as if someone might be listening.

“He don’t know what happened to her before we found her,” Asshole countered.

“Unless she says so,” Buddy reminded Asshole. Asshole didn’t like advice. He shoved Buddy away, harsher than before. Buddy stumbled backwards and then wandered off to sit by the fire.

“I ain’t losing no more ears over you, cunt,” Asshole spit.

Rhiannon snorted and sneered. “I guess to kill me, you’ll have to kill us both.” Buddy, whom she’d indicated, looked up at that and shifted his handgun to rest on his knee.

“Don’t listen to the bitch; she don’t get it.” Asshole leaned in closer like he was sharing some secret. “Let me explain. I can’t do anything to you that’s worse than what he’s going to.”

At this pronouncement, Buddy actually shuddered and wrapped his arms around himself, even though he sat a couple of feet from the fire.

“He saw you brought in,” Asshole continued. “He knew who you were, then made sure everyone with you, your friends, were killed, slaughtered.”

Buddy numbly finished Asshole’s thought. “ ’Cause then you’d know there was no help coming, nobody going to rescue you, no allies, no way out.”

Asshole threw a shut-up look at Buddy, but he ignored it to add, “Most of your group would have normally been spared, especially the females.“

Buddy lapsed into silence and Asshole took up the narrative. “Then he made sure we walked you past the birth center, if you can call it that.”

“He had you sit in the hole for six days with the cattle, to cut you down; had me bring my brother… ” Here his anger dimmed, and he faltered.