Grace Lost (6 page)

The cowboy answered for him. 
“In case my uncle isn’t human anymore, darlin’.”
  
He opened his door and spit onto the ground before standing up.  He
adjusted his belt and put his hat back on.  “Stay behind me, Adam.”

Boggs interrupted him.
“Boggs.
  People just call me Boggs.”

The cowboy tipped his hat in
answer. 
“Boggs then.
Stay behind me a few feet?”

“Ya sure,” he
answered.   “Zoe, hand me the gun?”

I handed him the pistol.  He
took it and got out of the SUV, shutting his door quietly.  I opened my
door to get out and Gus used a hand to stop my door.  “Zoe, you should
stay here.”

“No,” I whined, not wanting to be
separated from either of them.

“No arguing, Zo.
  You’re staying here,” said Boggs.   “You
should get up front.  Keep the engine running.  Be ready to
drive.”  He looked at Gus for confirmation.

“He’s right, Zoe.  Anything
bothers you out here just honk and if we don’t come running, drive off. 
Find somewhere to hide.”

I was upset, but knew arguing
would be pointless.  “Hurry back?” I asked, directed at Boggs, with a
concerned and slightly pleading look on my face. 

“You bet, kid.”  He winked at
me.

Gus and Boggs walked toward the
shabby looking trailer.  Boggs held the Kahr in his right hand, at his
side.  Gus kept his shotgun strapped over his left shoulder.  I
climbed between the front seats to take my position behind the wheel and
watched as they approached the front door of the trailer.  Boggs stopped
several feet shy of the door while Gus walked to it and rapped with his knuckles. 
Several minutes passed before Gus looked back to Boggs and signaled him to move
behind him.  The rain was pouring heavily now and the wind was blowing
hard.  I saw Gus put his ear to the door and listen for several
seconds.  When he seemed satisfied, he turned to Boggs and gave him an
exaggerated shrug.  They spoke briefly, their words too far away for me to
hear.  The windshield was becoming a blur of water and plant debris from
the storm, so I turned the wipers on low in an attempt to keep my companions in
sight.

Boggs stepped back a few more
feet, centered himself in front of the door, and raised his weapon. Gus turned
the knob slowly, cracked the door, and stood back as it swung inward.  He
scrambled back to join Boggs and readied his shotgun.  It took all of my
willpower to stay in my seat when all I wanted to do was get out and yell for
them to get back in the car.  I watched them both retch and cover their
mouths as they stepped farther away from the open doorway.  Moments later
the smell hit me though the open car window.  I was tired of being
offended by the smell of rot and decay.  I got out of the Explorer, the
engine still idling, and stood behind the open door.

The creature that emerged from the
doorway was different than what we’d seen so far. The old man was skeletal, his
skin mummified.  Long yellowed hair fell from his scalp, which was falling
away from his skull.  His lips were drawn back making his browned teeth
occupy more of his face than they should.  His eyes had long ago
shriveled, leaving dark holes in their place. He stumbled forward, following
the living by some unknown sense of desperation that must have substituted for
sight.

Gus didn’t hesitate.  He
raised his shotgun and felled his uncle with a single shot.  The decayed
old man was thrown backward, his head now unrecognizable from the spray of
pellets. He lay on the rain-soaked ground, his skeletal right arm halfway
submerged in a deep mud puddle.  Gus lowered his shotgun and looked to the
car, then to Boggs.  “That was Chuck. 
Looks like
he’s been gone a long time.”

Boggs was still aiming his .45 at
the trailer. 
“Sounds like he wasn’t alone.”

 
“Boggs?”
I called. “What is it?”

Without taking his eyes off the
trailer, he called back to me.  “I hear one of them in there, Zo. 
Stay back!  And for Christ’s sake get back in the car!”

Gus walked back over to Boggs and
readied his shotgun.  He held a hand up, signaling me to stay put.  I
shivered as the cold rain soaked through my summer outfit.  I wiped at my
face with the back of my hand, wishing that I also had a gun.  The three
of us stood watching the open door, waiting for horror to emerge.  I saw
Gus nod to Boggs, and watched as my best friend stepped into the dark trailer,
his Kahr outstretched in anticipation of an attack.  Gus entered behind
him, his shotgun at the ready.

 I waited for what seemed an
eternity, not knowing if I’d ever see Boggs or our new companion again. 
The thought of being alone was almost as unbearable as falling victim to one of
these unthinkably evil creatures.  The noise of the storm became distant
and was replaced by that of my own breathing and heartbeat.  Time seemed
suspended until the sound of a shot rang in the distance.  I knew by the sound
it was the handgun. 
“Boggs!”
I screamed. 
“Boggs!”
  I was crying now, running toward the door of
the trailer. I entered, the darkness blinding me momentarily. Suddenly muscular
arms were around me and I fought back hard, hitting and kicking.
“Boggs!”
I yelled, now pleading for help.

“I’ve got her!” called out a voice
that I recognized only faintly.  The arms tightened around me and my body
fought harder, my foot landing on a shin followed by cursing.

“Boggs!”
  My voice was now shaking from fear.

“Shhhh, darlin,’ calm down! 
It’s Gus.  Boggs is fine.”  Gus tightened his grip on me.

I heard footfalls coming from the
other end of the trailer and finally heard Boggs’ voice join us.  “Shhhh,
Zo.  It’s ok. 
Shhhh.”
  His arms took
over and I was in his embrace, his hands smoothing my hair.  I started
sobbing quietly as my eyes adjusted to the dim lighting.

“What was the shot? Are you ok?” I
asked, pleading for answers.

“Ya, Zo, ya.
  Gus’ uncle had a woman here.  She was
handcuffed to the bed…she had turned.  She’s gone now.  It’s
ok.  She can’t hurt us now.”

Gus broke our reunion.  “I
think we should get out of this place.  They’ve both been dead
awhile.  Nothing in here is going to be salvageable.”

He was right.  The stench of
the dead had leached into every nook and cranny.

“The cement building might be a
good bet.  We can stay dry there, and get some sleep,” suggested the
cowboy.  “Start fresh tomorrow,” he added.

Boggs loosened his grip on me and
gently guided me to the door of the trailer, back out into the rain.  “Zoe,
go with Gus.  I’m just going to back the Explorer up to the
building.  I want an easy out if we need to leave in a hurry.  Gus,
sound ok?”

We both gave our approval and Gus
put an arm around me, guiding me to the small building that first greeted us on
our drive in.  It was made from cinder blocks and concrete and partly
covered in moss.  There were a couple of brick-sized openings beside the
unusually short and narrow door.  The metal roof was patched with a blue
tarp, held down with sand bags. 

“Do you think it’s safe?” I asked
quietly.

“I’m willing to bet so,
Zoe.”  Gus walked to the side of the small building, lifted a rock, and
produced a key.  “Uncle Chuck used it for growing pot, so kept it
locked.  It’s pretty basic. No windows.  Just a mattress and
essential supplies inside, at least the last time I was here.  I’m going
to unlock it, and check it out, so I want you to wait off to the side, ok?”

“Ok,” I answered as I stepped
aside and out of the way.  I hugged myself, the wind now turning cold from
the nearby mountain tops.  I found the older man growing on me slightly,
despite his foul mouth and bad habits.

The sound of the Explorer backing
up signaled Boggs’ return from his short drive.  The engine turned off and
he got out and came to stand beside me, his pistol again in hand and readied.

Gus put the key into the lock and
turned it.  The door opened inward.  Aside from a musty odor, nothing
emerged to greet us.  Gus entered and gave the all-clear.  Boggs took
my hand in his and entered just ahead of me. 

“Go ahead and lock the door, Zoe,”
said Gus.  “It’ll be dark in here till I light a candle.”

I shut the small door and turned
the deadbolt.  The room was filled with darkness, but a small amount of
light leaked in from the small openings beside the door.  A glow followed
a short time later when Gus lit a candle.  I knew I imagined it, but the
little building already felt warmer from the candle light.

 In the far corner was a
small wood stove, long since rusted from age.  It was the type that had
two old fashioned round plates on top for heating pots and pans.  It had
an old copper kettle for water sitting on top.  A pipe went almost to the
ceiling before exiting out the back wall.  There was an old sheep skin
lying in front of the fireplace with two bean bags nearby.  It was clearly
meant to be a place to relax.  Not far from the fireplace was an old shelf
that held a couple of shoeboxes. The bottom shelf had a bottle of tequila,
three-quarters full, a single shot glass, a cheap lighter, and a clay
pipe.  A small wooden table was situated under the shelf and held a
variety of dusty candles.  Against the front wall was an old dingy full
size mattress.  The far side of the room was dedicated to
horticulture.  Raised boxes full of soil were carefully laid out, with
grow lights hanging from the ceiling above.  Wires were wound around the
rafters and dangled off to the side, gathered near the floor and taped together
as they led to a single power source.  The plants that had once flourished
had long ago dried up and fallen to join the soil from which they had
grown.  Jugs of water sat on the far ends of each of the four
planters.  I watched as Gus plugged the grow lights in.  They didn’t
turn on.

Gus lit a couple more of the
candles with the lighter from the shelf, took his cowboy hat off, and laid it
on the ground next to the wood stove to dry.  “Zoe, do you think you can
try to start a fire in the wood stove, darlin’?  It’s going to get cold at
this elevation tonight and we should try to get our clothes dried out.”

“Ya, sure.
I can try.”

“Good girl.  There’s some
newspapers and kindling under the little table, and I’ll try to find some
bigger pieces of dry wood from the pile outside.  Boggs, you want to get a
few things from the car and bring them in?”

“Ya.
We have a couple of sleeping bags and some food.  Do
you think the water in the jugs is ok?”  Boggs motioned toward the half of
the room meant for gardening.

Gus thought a moment, and then
spoke.  ”I think so, but we better boil it first just to be safe. We can
use the kettle on the stove.”

Boggs left the little building
we’d be calling home for the night and walked to the car. Gus left a moment
later.  I was left in the damp room by myself, and started working on
lighting a fire. I crumpled some old pages of newspaper from under the
table.  The kindling was brittle, lighting without much effort.  The
little fire was about to die down to useless embers when Gus finally returned,
his arms full of pieces of firewood that looked relatively dry.  The
little stove would only hold two or three wedges of wood at a time.  Boggs
entered soon after, balancing a cardboard box in one arm and a couple of the
bags from the ARCO dangled from his other hand.

“I think all we have left are the
sleeping bags and pillows.  The rest can stay in the car.”

“I’ll grab them,” said Gus. 
He left for the car and Boggs helped load the woodstove.

“He seems ok, Zoe.  Gus I
mean.”  Boggs looked at me.  “The sun’s going to set in about an
hour. I think we should try to rest here tonight and figure out a plan for
tomorrow.”

“
Ya,
sounds ok,” I mumbled.  I was feeling tired from everything we had been
through in one day.

“I’m going to need to help Gus
drag his uncle’s body away, or the stink’s going to get in here. We’ll do that
while you get settled in.  Take your wet clothes off and lay them out by
the fire. You can stay in one of the sleeping bags and try to sleep till
they’re dry.  I want you to keep the door locked though, ok?  
We’ll use the key to get back in.”

Gus came back in with the sleeping
bags and pillows, and a roll of toilet paper.  Boggs relayed the plan to
him, and the two headed out.  Since Gus took the toilet paper with him, I
figured nature called.

“Lock the door, Zoe,” reminded
Boggs.

I did as instructed then watched through
one of the small rectangular openings next to the door as the two men walked
toward the fallen corpse.  As they each took a leg and began to drag, his
upper body fell away, lightening their load.  His insides were dry,
creating a fine powder.  I saw Boggs cough.  Gus walked into the
trailer, holding his shirt over his nose, and emerged with a bed sheet that was
covered in dark brown stains that I presumed was old blood.  He laid it
out flat on the muddy ground and the two men started piling on pieces of
Chuck.  When they were done they hauled the bundle off into the
woods.  I lost sight of them and turned toward the fireplace.  I took
my shoes and socks off, and stripped out of my wet t-shirt and shorts, down to
my matching powder blue bra and panties.  I laid my clothes out near the
fire, next to Gus’ hat.  I added one more wedge of wood to the fire and
rolled out one of the sleeping bags, laying it on the old mattress.  I set
out the ARCO feast of Doritos and bean dip and Cherry Cokes for when Boggs and
Gus returned.  Exhaustion overcame me while I waited.  I slid into
the flannel-lined sleeping bag and lay my head on the pillow from Boggs’
bedroom.  It smelled like him, which I found comforting. I fell asleep and
dreamt of things that don’t belong in even the worst of nightmares.