The Dark Roads (10 page)

Calgary, AB

April 2, 2021

2:38 AM  93*F

Elvis could barely contain himself. They hadn't seen a department store since crossing into Canada, but there was one floating in the distance now. All of them were ready for a break, especially Amanda, who'd done more of her share of their nightly tasks. If they could rest for even two nights Richie was sure that things would get better for her.

She hadn't had time to grieve for her husband, not really, as they were keeping a ceaseless and rapid pace on their nightly travel. The big blue sign next to the huge white structure was an oasis, like a mirage, further up the road.

They approached the place with caution, as they always did, checking the area around the building for any signs of squatters and looking at the state of the entrances. This store wasn't untouched, by any means, but the windows were mostly secure and all of the doors remained locked.

If the inside proved to be a safe haven, they would have to find some way of patching the single front window that had been shattered. Someone, who was less subtle about entry than they were, had made his own way in.

Amanda stayed with Richie, covering his back as he worked on the bolt lock of a back door into the building. Buddy and Elvis were set to enter through the broken window. They wanted to secure the place from both sides. It would be much more efficient than entering as a complete group. The convenience of having four people rather than three was not lost on the three men and they were grateful for Amanda's presence.

Richie had improved upon his lock picking, but was having a hard time with the door. It was taking much longer than he liked and the delay was tapping on his nerves.

When the latch finally turned it was with an ease that he wouldn't have normally expected and he dropped his tension wrench to the ground. The tinkling sound of aluminum against asphalt pervaded the silence. The door swung open as he was fumbling for it and the barrel of a gun pressed against the top of his head.

Richie froze, refusing to look up, his eyelids slamming closed over his vision. He sincerely hoped that the person holding a gun to his head was one of his other two friends and that they were pulling some kind of a prank.

When he gathered the courage to open his eyes, seconds later, he saw an unfamiliar pair of hiking boots before him. No luck on the practical joke theory.

"Ma'am, if you would, just go ahead and drop your weapon that would be great," a man said from above him.

The clatter of the revolver hitting the pavement stung Richie's ears. His eyes went to the coach gun that lay to his right. The thing was just out of sight of the doorway, but he didn't dare reach for it.

He didn't want to look up and see the man's face for fear that it would cause him to squeeze the trigger. He waited, his breath going shallow, until the man that could kill him so easily spoke.

"I'm backing up just a little bit, but don't think I'm not still pointing at you," the voice said, "Now stand up and keep your hands where I can see them."

Richie did as he was told. When he finally got to see his aggressor, his appearance was surprising. The man was only five-eight and probably weighed one hundred forty-five pounds at best. He was clean shaven, and somehow his blonde hair was short and neat. His voice was much more rough than his appearance. He smiled at Richie, as if he weren't holding him in the sights of a weapon, but rather inviting him inside for a drink.

"Names?" he asked.

"Richie," he said.

"And you?"

"Amanda."

He looked at Amanda for a long moment, giving Richie time to contemplate the situation. Elvis and Buddy might already be inside and looking around. If so, he would need to figure out some way to warn them. If this man was the only one occupying the store, his friends would have a chance to either help Amanda and him, or get out of there.

That would be
their
choice, but if he knew Buddy, there would be a fight. If more people were inside, then there wasn't much he could do to even the odds now that he'd lost his weapon.

There was one more possibility that he dared not entertain. Maybe this man was actually friendly, but being as careful as Richie, himself, would have been. Maybe they would all end up as cohorts against the dangers of this new life they were leading.

When the man looked back to Richie, the jovial smile had vanished, revealing a severe look of dislike.

"You can call me Bail. Now get the fuck in here and join your buddies."

Richie's mind reeled at the statement. Elvis and Buddy had been captured.

***

"Right through that door," Bail told them from behind.

He'd backed into the building, keeping his weapon trained between the two of them, making sure that Richie knew that either one of them would be shot over any sudden movement. Since then, he'd been directing them through the store. He was following them with his pistol in one hand and the revolver he'd made Amanda drop in the other.

Amanda hadn't said a word, but Richie could tell by the look on her face that she was fighting to stay calm. He could empathize with her on that.

Richie pushed through a swinging door, thought about turning on their captor, and decided against it. One of the others might be hurt or killed if anyone heard the sounds of a struggle. He wasn't willing to risk their lives, just yet. Instead, he and Amanda passed through the entry without incident. Bail followed.

"Leave him alone," Elvis' voice echoed in the storeroom as Richie approached.

"Shut up, you fucking retard, or you'll get some, too!" yelled an unfamiliar voice.

Richie stiffened as he heard the sound of a fist hitting skin. When Bail told them to turn the last corner they could see the source of the noise.

Two men were holding Elvis by the arms, while two more were in the process of beating Buddy to a pulp. One was gripping his arms at the elbows from behind as the other took shots at Richie's friend. Richie almost ran to him, remembered the barrel of the gun that was surely pointed at this back, and chose to wait for a better opportunity.

"What the hell are you doing?" Bail asked the other men, "I said to hold onto em', not beat one to death."

"He took a swing at Jessie," the fellow who'd just punched Buddy in the stomach explained.

"Oh," Bail said, "That's fine. Quit it, though. He looks like he's had enough."

The two men dragged Buddy over to where Elvis was being held and dropped him. Elvis was let loose and fell immediately to Buddy, checking to see if he was still breathing, trying to make sure his friend would be okay.

Elvis looked up at the men as they backed away. Richie had seen anger on his friend's face many times, but never a pure and vengeful hatred as he saw now. Those men would be smart to keep an eye on Elvis. If they didn't, regrets wouldn't have time to be had.

"Go over by them," Bail told Richie and Amanda, "And don't get funny. There are a lot of guns at your backs."

Amanda joined Elvis, kneeling down to look at Buddy. Richie positioned himself between Bail's group and his own, protectively. He didn't think he'd be able to do much to save his friends, just then, but he wouldn't cower to these men. He heard Buddy cough and was glad. That meant they hadn't hit him hard enough to kill him.

"Also," Bail said, redirecting his attention to the men on his side, "Please don't use the word ‘retard’. It's not civilized and I won't hear someone spoken to like that."

The men nodded, obviously taking Bail's command seriously. Richie was sure, now, that Bail was the most dangerous man in the place. He would have to be if the others took his commands so submissively.

"Okay. Let's get to business here. What did you four think you were doing? Trying to break in on us? Wasn't smart maneuvering," Bail advised, "Coming in for supplies? Am I right?"

"That's all we were doing," Richie told him.

"Well why were you sneaking around like thieves, then?" Bail asked.

"We weren't."

"Picking a lock seems like something a thief would do. Don't you think so?"

"We do that so that we don't damage the mechanism. It's so we can use the locks if we decide to stay the night."

Bail nodded, a look of admiration slipping across his features. He looked around at his group and gestured toward Richie in a way of congratulation.

"Not bad. Makes sense."

Richie waited, not breaking eye contact with Bail.

"One problem."

"Yeah?" Richie asked.

"You picked the wrong place to check out."

"It's the only place for miles. We didn't think anyone would be here. Just let us go. We won't come back."

"I'd really like to do that, Richie. I really would," Bail said regretfully, "I'd like nothing more than to stock you four up with whatever you need and send you on your way."

"Then do it," Richie urged, "Please."

Bail seemed to consider the thought. It actually looked like he was thinking about it long and hard, but Richie knew that something else was running through his mind. A man doesn't gain power over so many others by being merciful.

"I'll tell you what, Richie," Bail offered, "Three of you can leave. We need to keep one to pay our taxes with."

Richie's heart began to race. He knew what would come next. He also knew that he wouldn't be leaving anyone behind when he left this place.

"We'll do just what I said. We'll stock your packs and set you loose. We'll have to keep your guns, you understand, but you'll get to walk out of here. No harm. No foul."

Bail paused, looking at the three people on the ground. Richie could hear Buddy trying to get to his feet, the scratch of his boots on concrete as he slipped once or twice before planting his feet.

"You just have to pick which one of these three you're going to leave behind."

"Why would I do that?"

"Richie! I'm sure you went to school somewhere and learned the rules of commerce!" Bail announced, "Just because it's gotten a little warm out during the day doesn't mean we all don't have to answer to someone. We’ve all got to pay our dues to keep the machine running.

"The thing is, we need to give a body up to the local feeders in order to continue our days in this safe place. Usually we go looking for somebody, but here you are. You've saved us some effort, which is why I'm letting you keep most of your group."

Bail walked toward him. He took slow, sure footed, steps until they were only a foot or two apart. He winked at Richie and leaned in close.

"Me personally, I hope you leave the girl. I wouldn't mind a shot at that one before we give her up to the stew pot. I'm sure you fellas have had your share already," Bail said with a lecherous wink, as if they were two friends about to have a beer together, "But I'm not going to make any choices for you."

"Let them go," Richie said, "Keep me."

Bail laughed, waved his index finger back and forth, and shook his head. His demeanor was almost jovial, friendly as any neighborhood watch member, but false. Richie could see the steel in the man without looking too hard.

"Sorry, Richie. That wasn't one of the choices. Now I'm going to take away points."

He looked at the group of them for a moment before pointing to Elvis. Two of Bail's men immediately grabbed Elvis by the arms and drug him a few feet away. Guns that had been pointed casually at the ground were now pointed at Elvis. His oily black hair hung down in his face, but the anger was still there in his eyes. He shook his head at Richie, telling him instantly that it didn't matter. He would survive these people if he was left.

"You have until I count to three. After that, you'll only have two to choose from. I hate to do it, Richie. Hell, the feeders won't even take him if he's dead. Spoils the meat, I guess. But don't test me, son. Now let's get this done."

"Feeders?" Richie heard himself ask from a thousand miles away.

"Oh, you know. Some of our fair race has developed a taste for... Well, have you ever heard the term ‘Long Pig’?"

"Cannibals," Richie said, his eyes switching to the men in the room, counting the odds quickly, finding them impossible without weapons, and then back to Bail.

"You got it," Bail said grinning, "We don't share their appetites around here, I'm glad to say, but we still have to pay the piper. Can't have them picking off one of my boys whenever they get hungry."

Buddy and Amanda were standing together, now. They weren't saying anything. They just watched, each of them realizing what was about to happen. Richie glanced at them as Bail began his count.

"One," Bail said, "Hope you have someone in mind."

Richie's watch ticked away at the seconds. Sweat was springing out on the nape of his neck. He was thinking hard and fast.

"Two. Hard position you're in. I'm sorry it has to be this way. Really, I am," Bail said without meaning a word of it.

Would they really let them go? If he had to leave someone behind could he live with himself? He knew who he'd have to choose.