America's Sunset: A Post Apocalyptic Fight for Survival (16 page)

Chapter 29 ~ To The Rescue

Ahmed and Harish sat dazed in the front as fluids leaked into the ditch amongst the smell burning rubber. Veronica watched as Chase tried desperately to open the back door. He couldn’t tell if it was jammed from the accident or locked. Either way, it wouldn’t budge. Harish was the first to notice the attempted escape. Ahmed moved painfully slow, as Harish unbuckled his seat belt and scrambled into the back.

Veronica backed away in fear, but Chase resisted. Harish grabbed him by the arm, and tried to pull him away from the door. Chase pulled his arm back, and continued his fight with the locked door. Ahmed joined the fray, grabbing Chase by the hood of his sweatshirt and dragging him to the front. Chase kicked and screamed the whole way. Ahmed released Chase and picked up his rifle, leveling it at Veronica. Chase immediately wrapped himself around Veronica, putting himself in harms way.

At this point, Harish noticed the transport that had driven them off the road. It pulled to a stop just behind them. Harish opened the door and stepped onto the road to get a closer look.

Ahmed called to him. “Harish, what you think you're doing? Get back in the vehicle now.”

Chase pressed his face to the side window, to see what was going on.

“What’s going on?” Veronica asked. “Is it bad? Is he coming to rescue us?” She wiped tears from her eyes, and moved over to peer out the window with Chase.

“I don’t know.” Chase answered. “I don’t think these two jerks know either. That has to be what that bumped us from behind. But, there’s no one getting out of the vehicle.”

“It has to be Dad.” Veronica pleaded with Chase, as if trying to convince herself. “He used to be a soldier you know. He could rescue us.”

“Yeah yeah, of course he could.” Chase put his arm around her shoulder, as they watched to see what would happen next. “That van looks like pretty official. It could be some sort of police or government agency. It’s not Dad.”

Temporarily, Harish and Ahmed forgot about the kids and focused their attention on the silent van. In spite of the fact that their vehicle was incapacitated, and they had very few options, Ahmed wasn’t about to let his brother get shot at point-blank range from people that obviously didn’t share their intentions. Ahmed carried the rifle by his side, but worried about using it at close range. Harish was directly in his line of fire from the van and Ahmed struggled to remember how many rounds were in the chamber. Just then, they heard the crackle of a loudspeaker being turned on. A commanding voice came over the speaker, “Drop the rifle, and raise your hands. Get on your knees.”

Harish looked to his brother, as Ahmed kept both hands on the rifle. Static sounded through the speaker. Harish raised his hands, and dropped to his knees. The black tar of the road was hot through his pants. The voice sounded from the loudspeaker once more “You too Ahmed. Drop the rifle and get on your knees. Failure to comply will result in deadly force.”

With both hands in the air, Harish pleaded with his brother. “Ahmed, we have no choice. We don’t know who or how many are in there. We don’t know their intentions.” He paused alternating glances between the van and Ahmed. “We don’t have a choice here. Come by my side, and lets face this together. We’ve done our duty. If this is how we end, then we need to handle it with grace. Like men.”

Ahmed look back at their vehicle, where Chase and Veronica had their faces pressed against the glass. His fingers tightened on the rifle as he began to raise it. Harish eyes widened, as he made eye contact with Ahmed and shook his head no.

As Ahmed looked at the kids, he considered his brothers words. Thy were true, they had done good work today. They still had more work to do, but if this was to be their end, he believed there would still be a place in heaven for them. Ahmed threw the rifle into the ditch behind him, put his hands in the air, and knelt beside his brother on the hot road.

The side door slid open, and one man in black tactical gear with head protection and dark glasses exited. He leveled his automatic weapon at Ahmed, but didn’t say a word. Another man exited, and proceeded to open the rear door of the crashed vehicle, to release the kids. Chase exited immediately, then offered his hand to Veronica who exited timidly. The second man directed them to enter the vehicle.

Veronica looked to Chase. “Is Dad inside there?” She asked. “Were not supposed to get into vehicles with strangers.”

Chased smiled. “We’ve already been riding with strangers kiddo. I don’t think it matters at this point.”

“And Daddy?”

“No, I don’t think so. Not yet.”

The man motioned them inside once more. “You need to get inside now. We don’t have time to sit here, with a couple of terrorists.”

Chase and Veronica looked to their former captors. “Are you going to execute them here in the street?” Chase asked matter-of-fact.

The man herded them both into the van without answering the question. Chase and Veronica were directed to two seats in the rear, and told to fasten their seat-belts. The door slid shut blocking their view of Ahmed and Harish. The well insulated van blocked all sounds from the outside. Chase noticed a locked compartment behind them. After several long minutes, the two men got back into the van and sat up front. Chase looked, but couldn't tell if their weapons had been fired. The men betrayed no emotions. Chase wondered, if their abductors were lying dead on the road now? The van accelerated, and took off.

Chapter 30 ~ Looping

The video looped endlessly and erratically. Dawson lay drunk and naked in the hotel bed, faded green sheets haphazardly covering his torso.

The hotel room smelled of old booze and dried-out pizza. The carpet was mostly clean, except for the crusty parts. Crusty in a way that even a screwdriver couldn’t break up; like concrete.  Dawson rolled over, then doubled up in pain. He tried crunching tighter into a ball to ease the pain. Instead, he squeezed the acids in his stomach up through his esophagus, past his mouth and onto the sheets. The vomit blended in nicely with the 1960s floral pattern of the sheets.

The girl in the corner chair, wearing only an old motel towel, had her eyes glued to the video screen of his phone. Dawson had been watching it before he passed out on the bed. She grabbed it before he had a chance to puke on it. Initially, she was just amazed, that it was a working phone. Her phone along with her friends phones had died when the power went out. She was going to try making a call, but then the video caught her attention. She tried to reconcile what she saw on the screen with the man lying on the bed. Dawson rolled over again, this time face first into his vomit.

Jesus
, the girl thought.
What if he suffocates in his own puke?
She walked to the bed, plugging her nose. Dawson’s breathing was interrupted by the wet sheets. She leaned in to check on him. Even with her plugged nose, the smell sent her reeling back; scrunching up her face. His breath seemed to get shallower … she wasn’t sure. Holding her nose and her breath, she grabbed his arm and pulled him away from the puke. He seized and coughed, then rolled back into the vomit.

Fine,
she thought.
Lie where you want. At least you’re still breathing.
She sat back down and watched the video once more as it started from the beginning.  The sound wasn’t that clear, and the picture flickered off and on.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, consider yourselves fortunate to be amongst the few lucky enough to see this country’s premier young rodeo star.” The crowd was fixated on the steer chute. The jumbotron displayed stats for a rider named Dawson Chambers. “One day, when you’re all rocking on your front porch, you’ll be able to tell your grandkids how you were there to see the first professional ride of the greatest rodeo star in America.” The crowd applauded wildly. The camera showed a young man, barely more than a boy, sitting himself down on one of those big pissed-off steers that real cowboys ride for eight seconds. Or at least they try to. “Today, this young man gets the challenge of his career. He’s drawn the biggest, baddest, and wildest steer of the crop. This bull has given us the most back-busting rides in rodeo history. We’re lucky to have him here today. Some of you have seen this bull, but none of you have ever seen a cowboy ride this bull for more than five seconds. Those of you that have followed the career of young Dawson Chambers know he’s the only rider here who’s never been thrown from a steer in under eight seconds. Today he’s face to face with the meanest animal on four legs. This steer has already ended the careers of two cowboys. There’s been talk of retiring him, but not today. Today, we get to see the unbeatable cowboy vs the unbeatable steer. It’s Dawson Chambers vs Apocalypso.”

The camera showed a close-up of the rider strapping his wrist to the bull, one hand on his hat, and the other on the animal. The bull bucked violently and knocked a wrangler clear off the gate and into the dirt. Dawson put another wrap on his wrist. The helpers signaled they were clear, and the gate flew open.

On the motel bed, Dawson groaned in pain, then once more puked into the sheets.

Chapter 31 ~ Responsibility

As Maggie raced across town—committing half a dozen moving, speeding and zoning violations—multiple thoughts raced through her mind. Most of which she couldn’t understand for the life of her.
Human beings are strange creatures at the best of times,
she thought,
and at their worst, they make stupid depraved choices.
It made her crazy, especially when those choices affected the people she cared about in her life; like the kids. She could understand that sometimes life put people in tough situations. There was no doubt that Dawson wasn’t living his dreams. But he needed to realize that other people’s lives were affected by the choices he made. That was where she was going to start her lecture when she got her hands on him.

That Maggie made it all the way across town without getting pulled over was a sure indication that either some major crime spree was occupying the entire police force, or the local doughnut shop was having a two-for-one special. She drove into the parking lot of the most derelict-looking motel she’d ever seen. Whenever she drove by this way in the past, she always though it was an old condemned building. Not that she drove through this section of town very often. This area had long since seen its better days, and a frequent topic of conversation with the town council was what should be done with it. Demolition was the preferred option, but no one seemed to have the funds. Apparently, knocking down buildings can be almost as expensive as putting them up; at least when you’re in the middle of a depressed economy, and the demolition firms are so backlogged.

She parked the car and started walking to the hotel office when a young girl wearing fewer clothes the Maggie ever allowed her daughter to wear out in public approached.

“Maggie? I believe we talked on the phone. I got your number from his cell phone.” She handed her Dawson’s cell phone. “You’re not like his wife or something, are you?” The girl looked behind her as if she was expecting someone. “If you’re his girlfriend or anything, I’m really sorry, I didn’t know. I don’t usually do this kind of stuff with guys. We were both pretty drunk last night. One thing just led to another, and then we woke up here. He said he wasn’t married, honestly. I believed him. He’s pretty convincing when you’re both drunk, and he’s staring at you with those baby blue eyes.”

“His eyes are green, sweetie.” Maggie took the phone from her. “Don’t worry, hon, I’m not his wife or his girlfriend or anything like that. More like his babysitter. At least that’s what I seem to be doing most of these days.”

The girl squinted at Maggie. “You’re a little bit old to be a babysitter, aren’t you? No offense intended.”

Maggie just smiled. “No offense taken. And you’re right, I’m definitely too old to be his babysitter. And more to the point, he’s far too old to need a babysitter.”

They both nodded in agreement.

“He’s down in room 8F. The door’s open, and I gotta get out of here. I was supposed to be at work a couple of hours ago, but I didn’t want to leave him all alone like that. I was worried he might choke on his own puke. It’s pretty gross, but I tried cleaning him up. Hopefully he’ll stay that way till you get there.”

“Thank you. I appreciate that, and his kids will too.”

The girl narrowed her eyes. “He’s got kids?” She shook her head as she headed across the parking lot.

“Yeah, tell me about it,” Maggie muttered to herself as she walked into the hotel room.

“All right, soldier!” Maggie boomed as she slammed the door shut as hard as she could. “It’s time for roll call. Get your ass out of bed!”

Dawson never stirred from where he lay. The odor of fresh vomit wafted in from the bathroom. Maggie slammed that door shut as loud as she could. Dawson moaned a little.

“Dawson! Time to move. I don’t have time for this. You need to get yourself up and dressed.”

Maggie pulled the pillow out from under Dawson’s head, then yanked the sheets off him.

Dawson stirred, and rolled himself to the edge of the bed. “Where are my clothes?”

“Across the room.” Maggie nodded.

“Argh, my head,” Dawson mumbled. “Can you hand them to me?”

Maggie shook her head. “No, as a matter of fact I can’t. What I can do … and what I did do … was interrupt my day to drive all the way across town because some stranger called me to say that you were throwing up all over the place, and she didn’t know if you were going to have to go to the hospital, and she didn’t have time in her busy day to take you there. Apparently I did have time, so here I am. So, the least you can do is to drag your butt across this sleazy pit of a motel room and pick up your own clothes.”

“OK, OK. I’m moving. Not so loud please.”

Maggie pulled the drapes, to check on the car in the parking lot. Jake had spent hours getting it working again since the CME, and wouldn’t be happy if one of the few working vehicles in town got stolen while she rescued a hung over Dawson. “The faster you move the quieter I’ll talk, mister.”

Dawson raised his hands in surrender as he started collecting his clothes and getting dressed.

“What the hell were you thinking?” Maggie asked. “Actually, don’t answer that, because obviously you weren’t, and I’m in no mood to hear lame excuses. What I am going to do is tell you what I’m thinking.”

Dawson was doing his best to get one leg at a time into his pants, and failing miserably. He decided to try again while sitting.

Maggie watched him, but found nothing about this funny. “You know you have children, right? Two beautiful, smart and very loving children. For now, I’m having an incredibly hard time understanding why they are so attached to you. It’s one of the few burdens that children seem to be required to carry. No matter how much you screw up, they simply can’t help but have deep-seated love towards you. Your kids don’t seem to care how irresponsible or reckless you are. All they care about is that you’re OK.”

Now fully clothed from the waist down, Dawson tried desperately hard to manipulate the buttons of his shirt, which seemed to have a mind of their own and wanted to go anywhere but in the correct buttonhole.

“Now, since you haven’t brought it up, the answer to the big question, is ‘we still don’t know’.”

Dawson looked up at Maggie with a confused look. His mind raced to figure out what Maggie was referring to, but the alcohol wouldn’t let him find the answer. “Big question?” He mumbled.

“Maggie shook her head. “We still don’t know where the kids are. Your kids to be more specific. They’re missing … remember?”

Dawson’s memories came flooding back. “Jesus!” His whole body sagged, as he raised both hands to cover his face.

“Unless that is, you found them in the bottom of a bottle. I assume, that’s the excuse for this bender.” Dawson forced himself up and stumbled towards the door. “Well, that’s the smartest move I’ve seen you make so far today. Let’s get you home.”