Broken World (3 page)

My stomach bottoms out and I dig through
my purse. My gun isn’t there.

Now I’m really shaking. “I want it
back!”

My only warning is the tightening of
Angus’s jaw. His hand makes contact with my cheek and a crack echoes through
the car. It catches me by surprise and I slam against the passenger door. My
cheek stings and my ear rings, but I don’t move. It’s not the first time a man
has hit me. I’m used to it. If he wants to intimidate me, he’ll have to do
better than that.

“Dammit, Angus!” Axl says.

“Shut up!” Angus points at his brother’s
reflection in the rearview mirror. His face is bright red and a little vein has
popped up on his forehead.

Axl sits back, and Angus turns to me.
“Now you listen here, girlie. This here is my car. You wanna travel with me,
you play by my rules. Got it?”

We stare at each other for a second and
I don’t blink, but I’m stuck. He must see it in my eyes—the desperation—because
he smiles. I dig my nails deeper into my palms, then face the passenger side
window. Just a few days. Then I can get away from this asshole and never see
him again.

“We’re gonna stop for the night here
soon,” he says.

I shake my head and turn back to face
him. Getting hit again would suck, but stopping seems stupid. “Why? There are
three of us. We can drive straight through and get there in no time.”

“My car, my rules. Remember?” Angus
doesn’t even look at me. He just grins. Like he enjoys bossing me around.
Probably does. “Soon as we find a motel or area to camp we stop. I wanna get
some real rest. Can’t sleep with the car jostlin’ around like this.”

I sit back and cross my arms over my
chest. There’s no way I can win this argument.

3

WE
DON’T FIND A MOTEL, so we pull over and set up camp on the side of a road.
Right next to a crumbling gas station that probably hasn’t been open since the
‘60s. The parking lot is overgrown, covered in weeds that are soft and full.
It’s flat. The perfect place to set up a tent.

Camping on the side of the road probably
would have been a big deal in days gone by. Just like the rabbit Angus shot for
our dinner. But not now. Pretty much anything goes these days, as long as you
have the proper travel documents.

The brothers are prepared for anything.
They have equipment for camping, hunting, fishing. Pretty much any scenario
that might come up. Like it really is the end of the world. It makes me think.
Maybe I’m not so bad off with these guys. I don’t have to trust them, or like
them, but if I can get them to trust me… These are the kind of people you want
on your side when the world goes to hell. These are the kind of people who will
survive. Who will do whatever it takes to make it. That’s not such a bad thing.

I haven’t had much of a chance to talk
to Axl, so I’m still trying to figure him out. Angus is an open book; there are
no surprises with this guy. But Axl is interesting. He doesn’t say much, but
when he does he’s blunt. Almost abrasive. When Angus barks orders at him he
doesn’t even blink. His brother is the boss. Probably has been his whole life,
and he looks at Angus with a kind of reverence that’s almost unnerving. Like he
owes him his life, and he’ll do whatever it takes to repay him. But it’s clear
just from watching Axl that he can handle himself. Angus shot the rabbit, but
Axl skinned and gutted it. When he pierced the body with the metal spit he
looked like a pro. He’s probably done this a million times.

We sit around the fire in camp chairs.
The brothers barely talk. Barely interact. But it’s like they are hyperaware of
each other’s presence. I’m across the fire from them, and I get the impression
it was set up this way intentionally. They trust me about as much as I trust
them. Something that needs to change.

“So I think we got off on the wrong
foot,” I say as Axl leans forward and rotates the rabbit.

“You could say that.” Axl glances at me
briefly. Even in the light of the fire his eyes are stormy.

“Look.” I inhale slowly while I push
every last bit of pride down. It’s the only way I’ll be able to get the words
out. “I get why you took my gun. I don’t love that you went through my purse,
but I get it. I pulled a gun on you, so I’m the one who started it. I want to
finish it. Right here.” I blurt it out all in one breath, before I lose the
nerve.

“Mighty nice of you to say,” Angus says.
“But I ain’t givin’ you that gun back.”

I dig my nails into my palms. “Fair
enough. You just hold onto it until you feel like you can trust me.”

He gives me a half grin, but it’s there
in his eyes. He has no intention of giving me that gun back. Ever. I’ll have to
work hard at getting him to trust me.

Axl will be easier, as long as I can
keep his brother from hating me. He’ll do whatever Angus says, but he’s not as
hard as his brother. Not quite.

“So I never asked where you guys were
from,” I say, taking a sip of my beer. The brothers have a cooler full of ice
and Coors Light. They probably thought it was as necessary as the camping
equipment when they packed their car. I’m glad they have it though, it’s cold
and having something in my hand helps me relax. I can pretend it’s my gun.

“Tennessee,” Angus says.

“Good riddance,” Axl mumbles.

The rabbit must be done, because he
takes out a knife and cuts a big chunk off it. He tosses it on a paper plate
and holds it out to me.

His eyes hold mine when I take it from
him. I force out a smile. “Thanks.”

Axl serves his brother, then gets some
for himself. I stare uncertainly at the plate in my hands. I’ve never eaten
rabbit, but it doesn’t smell bad and my stomach is growling. It probably tastes
like chicken. I take a big bite. It’s greasy and gamier than I expected. More
like a chicken leg than a breast. It’s not awful, just bland. But I’m too
hungry to care.

“You have family in Tennessee?” I ask
between bites.

Angus stops eating and glares at me.
“What’s it to you?”

“Just making conversation.”

He purses his lips. “What about you,
Blondie? You got family? You say you’re goin’ to California to see your
daughter, but that ain’t what your papers say.”

I squeeze the beer can so tight the
aluminum crinkles, echoing through the silence. Angus reading my papers hadn’t
even occurred to me.

“Who’s Roger Clifton?” Angus grins like
he just loves seeing me squirm.

I swallow and take a deep breath, trying
to ignore my racing heart. “Roger Clifton is my father.” I hold Angus’s gaze.
Just saying his name leaves a bad taste in my mouth.

“So what’s the story there? Must be
interestin’ if it’s got your feathers all ruffled like that.” Angus takes
another bite, grinning like a chimpanzee. A little bit of grease trails down
his chin, and my stomach convulses.

“It was just an excuse to get me to
California. I have no intention of seeing my father. But they wouldn’t have let
me go to see my daughter. She’s not mine. Not legally.” I try to relax, I
really do. But I can’t. Every muscle in my body is wound tight and all I want
to do is dive across this fire and punch him in the nose for looking at me like
that. So smug. So happy he’s gotten under my skin.

“Look,” I say as calmly as possible. “I
don’t like to talk about my father, but I’ll tell you my story just so we can
establish some trust. Just this once. After that, the subject is closed. Off
limits. Understand?”

Angus gives me a mockingly sympathetic
look. It makes me want to squeeze his neck until his eyeballs pop out of their
sockets. My hand wraps around the can more tightly, and I pretend it’s his
throat.

“My father was….not nice to me. To put
it mildly.” I take a deep breath so I can get the words out. “He beat me.
Often. I left the day I turned eighteen. He was passed out drunk, had just
cashed his welfare check that morning. I grabbed his car keys and all his cash
and walked out the door. Never looked back.”

“Why Kentucky?” Axl asks. He’s been
watching me this whole time. His eyes are sympathetic, unlike his brother’s.

“I just drove until I ran out of money.
Kentucky is where I ended up. I found a job at a strip club, crashed on the
couch of one of the other girls for a few months, and pretended Roger Clifton
didn’t exist. It worked just fine until all this started.”

Angus sits up straighter with the rabbit
halfway to his mouth. He wiggles his eyebrows at me. “Stripper, eh?” He gives
me a big grin. “Maybe you could give us some entertainment.”

I fight back a shudder. He gives me the
creeps but I don’t want to show it, so I laugh. “Maybe one night, if I get
drunk enough. Not tonight, though. I’m too tired.” I try to make it as casual
as possible, and from the excited gleam in Angus’s eyes, I assume he buys it.
But I need to be careful with this guy. He’s the type who would take any
flirting as consent.

Angus goes back to eating, and I turn
away. My gaze meets Axl’s. He’s watching me closely. Eating his rabbit while
his eyes study me thoughtfully. Maybe he’s the one I should be more worried
about.

“We got no family,” he says. “It’s just
Angus an’ me.” Angus glares at his brother, but Axl shrugs. “What? She shared.
Only fair.”

“What happened to your family?”

“Mom’s dead. We got different dads—both
of ‘em are MIA. It’s just been the two of us since I was seventeen.” Axl takes
one last bite. He tosses the rabbit bones over his shoulder and wipes his mouth
with his sleeve.

These two are exactly like the men I
grew up with. Angus could almost be my father. He has the glare down pat and
the same hardness in the way he carries himself. Axl, on the other hand, seems
different. He’s more like one of the trailer park victims. Uneducated and
blindly following in the footsteps of the men before him, never considering
that there might be something better out there. That he might be better. He’s
not weak and he’s not a follower, he just exists.

“How’d your mom die?”

“Does it matter?” Angus growls.

He spits into the fire and it sizzles,
breaking through the silent night. A sudden shudder racks my body. It hadn’t
occurred to me how eerily quiet it was before now. It’s scary how suddenly the
world has changed. Terrifying.

“I’m turning in.” Angus gets to his
feet. “You take the first watch, Axl. You got plenty of sleep in the car.” He
turns and smiles at me. “Wanna join me? Bet we could both squeeze into one of
them sleepin’ bags.”

I have to choke down a gag. “I got some
sleep in the car. I’m going to hang out here for a while.” Thank God I grabbed
a few blankets as I was leaving my apartment. I got lucky.

Angus grunts. “Suit yourself.”

He ducks into the tent, and I shiver.
It’s a good size, but I have no desire to be in there alone with him.

“You cold?” Axl gets to his feet. “You
shoulda packed warmer clothes. That ain’t the kind of stuff you wear
travelin’.”

He walks over to the car and opens the
back door without waiting for an answer. When he comes back, he’s carrying a
flannel shirt. The quilted kind redneck men wear in the winter instead of
jackets. I hate them. They remind me of my father. But the gesture is so sweet
I take it anyway.

“Thanks.” I flash him a smile while I pull
it on. I
am
cold. I didn’t realize it until now.

Axl moves his chair closer to me, then
takes a seat. There’s only about two feet of space between us now.

He glances toward the tent. “Sorry Angus
hit you.”

His tone is too blunt to be apologetic,
but it still makes me feel good he said it.

I study him and try to figure out what
he’s thinking, but his expression doesn’t give anything away. He stares into
the fire, his fingers curled around the gun in his lap. He doesn’t look at me
and he doesn’t say anything. He just sits there, slouched over and staring off
into the distance.

“It’s not your fault.” I take a sip of
my beer and wince when the liquid fills my mouth. It’s warm. I set the can on
the ground.

“He ain’t that bad. Just Angus. It’s the
only way he knows how to be.”

My mouth goes dry. This is the most I’ve
heard him speak since they picked me up. I don’t want him to stop. Maybe if I
make small talk. “So what did you do for a living? Back in Tennessee.”

“Construction. When I could get work.”
He still doesn’t look away from the fire. “Shitty economy and all that. Made it
tough.”

That explains the muscles.

“So you stripped? How was that?” He
finally looks at me, but his face is expressionless. Just like his voice.

“Paid the bills. Got me away from my dad.”
I shrug. My mouth feels like it’s full of cotton. I grab the beer again. Who
cares if it’s warm?

He stares into the fire like it holds
the secret to life or something. “Must’ve been tough. For datin’, I mean.”

“The kind of guys I dated didn’t really
care,” I say dryly. It’s an understatement, really. They were the kind of men
who bragged about my job. Even brought their friends in to see me. I’ve never
been married, but I bet if I were that old saying would prove to be true. I’d
probably end up with a husband just like my dad. Lord knows those are the kind
of guys I tend to go out with.

His stormy eyes search mine. “People
should come with warnin’ labels.”

I laugh. It’s so sharp and bitter that
it surprises even me. “No kidding. What about you? You have a girlfriend, ever
been married?”

He guffaws. “Hell no. I’m only
twenty-two. I ain’t gettin’ tied down to no woman at this age. Maybe later.
Maybe…” He grins, and I relax a little. Finally he’s loosened up. “What ‘bout
you? You been married?”

“I’m too damaged.” The firelight
flickers off his face. It makes him appear more vulnerable, more his age.

He lets out a small sound, somewhere
between a grunt and a sigh, and turns back to the fire. “We’re all damaged.
Even them people livin’ in them fancy houses out there in Hollywood. Maybe they
don’t show it as much because they got money, but they got baggage. Same as you
an’ me.”

I shake my head, but he doesn’t look
over at me. “I’ve known plenty of people who weren’t damaged.”

He takes his eyes off the fire and purses
his lips, studying me. “Like them men that came to see you dance?” There’s
something strange in his tone. Disgust, bitterness. Something else I can’t
quite place.

“Like you’ve never been to a strip
club?” I roll my eyes but don’t look away from him.

“Never said I hadn’t. But I’m as damaged
as they come, never pretended to be nothin’ else.”