Ravaged Land - A Post-Apocalyptic Novel (18 page)

When I came out Owen and Ryan were discussing the trip to town they were about to go on. First, they were going to the home improvement store, then to fill a pack with food from whichever place had the best selection left, and finally to the gas station to fill up our gas jug for the generator. They wanted to replace an extra day’s worth of food since they’d taken yesterday off.

They approached the runs as if it was a nine-to-five job, except it was a job that they never wanted to take a day off from. It would be a relatively quick and simple run for them. They’d be back before noon and could get started on patching the roof.

“Can I come with?” I asked not even sure I wanted to go, but I knew the answer would be a big fat ‘no’ as it had always been before I’d given up asking.

“You don’t need to,” Owen said.

“Well I know, but Dean’s not going, and you said it’ll be quick so I thought maybe I could be of some help,” I said looking to Ryan hoping for some support.

“It’s safer for you here Ros,” he said not making eye contact. He must have found it easier to tell me no if he wasn’t looking at me.

“It’s safer for you here too,” I countered.

He had been trying not to, but he looked at me, and I could tell by his expression he wanted to tell me to stay, that was until he saw me. “Fine, but you stay close and do what we say. You’ll carry both your knife and a gun.”

Sienna had come down and heard that I was getting to go with, “No fair! I want to come too!”

“Awe Christ,” Owen muttered.

“If she can do it, I surely can,” Sienna said taking a verbal jab at me. I had to assume she was referring to when we had the visitors and I’d lost it. Not that she had been that much better, but she hadn’t passed out and injured herself.

“Well, maybe another time,” Ryan said. “Four is too big of a group, we can’t draw attention to ourselves and I already told her she could come this time.”

“Fine, but I get to come next time!”

“Next time Dean isn’t able to come it’s your turn,” Owen corrected.

When we were outside, Owen and Ryan showed me how to protect myself from the sun. They wrapped their heads with a light cloth, wore sunglasses, slathered sunblock on any exposed skin. They triple checked their guns and put them in their waistband. Owen gave me a quick run-down on the gun, how to use it, how to point and how to turn the safety on and off. He told me to leave the safety on, and only if it was a true emergency should I turn it off, because, and roughly in his words, ‘it would be safer for all of us since I had no idea how to use it.’ I would just be using it as an intimidation tool should the need for one arise. I slid it into my waistband just as they had done and pulled my shirt over it so it was hidden. Owen handed me an empty pack, if I was coming it was to help, not to just go for a walk. Ryan grabbed the gas can, and we started out.

We went towards town wrapped in our protective clothing and shades, with our weapons hidden. It all made me feel tough, until I remembered how I wasn’t. I followed two steps behind at all times. It was smart to let them lead the way. Every so often one of them would glance back to make sure I was still there and not passed out from overheating or something worse. We’d get the gas last, they told me, because it was the heaviest and hardest to carry. First we’d go find the roofing supplies. Going around town was far easier than I had imagined, they took back streets and stayed hidden as much as possible. We hadn’t run into another living soul, we did however run into some angry dogs.

“What are those?” I asked. They didn’t seem like normal dogs. They were some kind of cross between a pit bull and a greyhound. Beefy and solid like a pit bull but long and tall like a greyhound. They were mean, they snarled and growled, even at each other. Each time we’d seen them off in the distance they were too busy to notice us, tearing something stringy and bloody apart or fighting with each other.

“Some kind of dog, a cross-breed I think,” Owen said, “We avoid those. Always.”

“Right.” The last part was obvious. I hadn’t failed to notice that when the dogs were anywhere in sight — or even the couple times we heard their harsh bark — that the boys would be more than ready to pull out their guns and shoot the dogs dead. I almost wanted to ask how many dogs they’ve had to put down on their runs but I decided I didn’t want to know.

We picked up a medium sized pail of roofing sealant, two brushes, some shop rags and left. Next we headed for their usual stop for the water and food supplies. They took me to what used to be a family run grocery store. It wasn’t quite as large as your typical chain grocer, and the food was noticeably diminishing.

“It’s not just us taking stuff from here is it?” I asked knowing what they came back to the house with and noticing how much appeared to be gone from the shelves.

“Nope,” Owen said.

“Have you ever crossed paths with any others?”

“Nope,” Owen said lifting his crossed fingers at me.

They helped me fill my pack with things that weren’t expired. We were now able to take things that needed heating like soups, noodles or rice. But before we had the ability to heat stuff either microwave or stove-top, we’d only take things that were edible even cold.

There was a display that held all kind of seed packets which appeared to have never even been touched. I grabbed a bunch of packets, a brochure and a booklet that was on the display when no one was looking. The seeds would be my secret since I didn’t want to get teased about how nothing would grow in this heat or on the land. I thought maybe one day we could figure out a way, maybe even in the basement somehow. It seemed silly to just leave them behind when maybe one day we could try. So I slid them in the front pocket of the backpack. The juicy red tomatoes and the bright orange carrots pictured looked so amazing I almost felt like I could taste them. I fantasized about being able to grow and eat fresh fruits and vegetables. It would be a welcomed change from the canned and boxed junk packed with preservatives that we have been surviving on. Which I suppose, all things considered, I shouldn’t really complain about since it was better than nothing.

We turned to leave when the pack was full, “Wait!” I said looking at what signs remained above head until I found the aisle that said ‘Office Supplies.’ I found a sketchbook, pencils and crayons that I was going to carry until Owen reminded me I needed a free hand. He shoved them in with the brushes and rags from the home improvement store looking at me as if I should explain the art supplies, but he packed them away even though I hadn’t said anything.

The nearest gas station was dilapidated. The paneling was shredding off the sides, paint was peeling away from surfaces, the sign was missing and the door of the main entrance was hanging by a single hinge but at least the tanks below still had gas inside. Ryan pried one of the heavy metal covers off and lowered a tube into the tank. He put the tube in his mouth and quickly pulled away when the gas started flowing. Ryan quickly placed the tube into the gas container and let it fill while Owen looked around. Being at the gas station was easily the most nerve-wracking part of the run since we were out in the wide open with no cover. It was not the safest but luckily it was the fastest stop. Ryan put the cap on the red jug and we turned around the side of the building to head back home.

We spun around quickly at the sound of the whistle, “Hey beautiful,” he said in a deep, raspy voice.

Owen and Ryan both stepped in front of me instinctively and protectively. There was a rough looking man leaning against the side of the building. The new world hadn’t been kind to him, then again it was likely the old world hadn’t been either. He had on a leather vest all patched up and a cigarette hanging out of the side of his mouth. He had a black and white bandana with skulls wrapped around his head, with his sunglasses propped on top revealing the baggy skin under his eyes. His skin was wrinkled and crispy not from age but likely from spending too much time in the sun, but somehow he had avoided being burnt. He rested one foot against the side of the building, his body relaxed, as we stood there tense.

Ryan had his hand on the handle of his gun, but Owen kept both hands out in front of him balancing the heavy pack with the sealant over his shoulder. The pack itself could probably be used as a weapon if need be, but I figured Owen was keeping his hands visible to the stranger so he wouldn’t be suspicious of them. Although I imagined we weren’t the first people he’d run into that carried guns. He would probably just think we were some stupid kids with some guns we didn’t know how to use, and as far as I was concerned he had that right about one of us.

“Relax boys,” he said giving them a little peak at the shotgun he had been hiding behind his leg, “Just saying ‘hi’ to the lady. Being friendly is all.”

“All right then, we don’t want any trouble. You’ve said your hello, now we’ll just be on our way,” Ryan said taking small, slow steps away from the man and the situation we had found ourselves in.

“We haven’t finished our conversation yet have we gorgeous?” he walked over to us with a small limp and his shotgun over his shoulder. “Come here,” he said wagging his finger at me.

I shook my head side to side, I didn’t want to leave the safety of being behind Ryan and Owen. This guy gave me the creeps. Not just because he was significantly older than I was, there was just something about him that screamed prison escapee.

“Don’t be shy, love, come here,” he said pointing the shotgun at Ryan. He completely picked him at random as far as I could tell. Truthfully, it wouldn’t have mattered which he’d decided to point his gun at. I would have done whatever I had to for either of them.

“Christ,” Owen muttered.

“Don’t,” Ryan whispered not taking his eyes off of the man.

I forced my feet to move, I wasn’t going to let anything happen to Ryan or Owen because I had made them take me with them. I had practically forced it on them, they told me not to. This was entirely my fault, this was exactly why they wanted me to stay home. It was just my luck that this happened the time I came with. This piece-of-crap, former inmate, just happens to be hanging out at the gas station.

He kept the gun pointed at Ryan while he slid my sunglasses off with his other hand, and slowly hooked them over the top of my shirt his fingers lingering against the sweaty exposed skin of my lower neck. He pulled my headwrap off awkwardly slow and let it fall to the ground, “Let it down, love,” he ordered trying to make it sound like I was just as into this as he was. If he believed that he was insane, which seemed quite possible.

I yanked out my hair tie pulling out a few strands of my stringy, dingy hair with it. I thought about grabbing my gun and pointing it at him, but I worried I wouldn’t be able to do it fast enough and he’d pull the trigger. Ryan wouldn’t have time to get out of the way, by the time he realized what was happening it would be too late. I wouldn’t even have the time to make a threat of any kind, but then again it would take him by surprise. It would probably be the last thing he was expecting from me. I wasn’t going to do it now, but if I had to I’d try it. Maybe it would work, maybe it wouldn’t, but not yet.

He ran his fingers through my hair, but they were sweaty and they got stuck and pulled. I felt violated even though it was just my hair, but I kept my eyes on Owen and Ryan waiting for the right time to make a move. Their worried and tortured expressions were enough to make me feel nauseated. I needed to do something to get us out of here. “Is that your bike?” I asked motioning my head towards his bike.

“It is, love. Do you like it?” he asked, his gun still pointed at Ryan. Much of his eye contact was focused on either Ryan or Owen, even though he was talking to me.

“I do, I’d love to go for a ride sometime and feel the wind against my face. Must feel real nice in this heat,” I said flicking my hair to the other side, “I know this is probably asking too much but could I sit on it?” I said trying to keep my body movements relaxed and my voice calm. Everything about this man repulsed me, but I pretended I was in a movie, if I played this part perfectly maybe I’d win an Oscar.

“Yeah you can, baby.” He walked backwards, keeping his gun aimed at Ryan while I strutted runway style towards his bike. I climbed on the bike as slowly and as seductively as I could. I hoped that maybe it might give the boys an opportunity to take over the situation. I straddled the bike and let my head fall back as if I was trying to imitate an intimate moment, some kind of motorcycle ecstasy. Thankfully it was enough for him to let his guard down, he lowered his shotgun and bit his knuckle. He took two steps towards me, ready to drive off taking me with him on all his bike adventures. Except for the fact that I had pulled the gun from my pants and had it pushed up against the side of his head. The safety on, but he didn’t know that. I kicked his shotgun loose and it stirred a small cloud of dust when it hit the ground.

Owen reached down and picked up the shotgun while Ryan pointed his — likely with the safety off — gun, at the man. I climbed off the motorcycle keeping my gun pointed at him.

“Here’s what’s really going to happen,” I practically spit in his face. I didn’t like how he had made me feel, so powerless, and in front of Owen and Ryan. Maybe I was done being powerless, or maybe having had Ryan’s life threatened helped put me in a different mode, but I was ready to kick some biker ass. I don’t know what and it didn’t matter. “You’re getting on your bike, and you’re driving away. I’m keeping the shotgun to remind myself every day that there are disgusting old perverts out there.” When he didn’t move I pushed the gun as hard as I could against his head, “What are you waiting for?”