The Dark Roads (6 page)

As he'd told them, marbles shatter, but that didn't matter here. He could hunt and not have to risk losing any of the steel balls he used elsewhere. There were four bags of ammunition next to his sleeping bag.

"We needed this, you know?" Richie asked.

"You think?" Buddy remarked.

They slept well for the third day in a row. They woke with dusk, ate, packed, and left the place behind. Buddy turned the last page in his book an hour before they left.

Livingston, Montana

February 7, 2021

3:00 AM  98*F

They weren't making bad time, putting miles and experience behind them. The nights were seemingly longer as they continued their journey to the north.

They started to notice signs of other travelers again. They would see the left over scraps or bones of an evening meal on the shoulder of the road, or a discarded piece of clothing. Elvis bent down in the middle of the road to pick up one lone shoestring and began wrapping it around the insides of his fingers only to unwrap it a moment later. He grew bored with the game after a bit and slipped the string into a pocket. Richie watched this with well rested eyes.

He'd been worried about Elvis for a while there, but their little break from the walk had done him good. It seemed that he was truly enjoying the exercise now, as opposed to shuffling dreadfully along with no real end in sight.

Richie didn't know whether he was out of the proverbial woods yet, but he was definitely on the right track. Buddy thought the same thing and had mentioned it to Richie. They smiled at each other for a moment. Both men were happy to see that their friend would likely be alright.

Buddy had always been an odd duck, but his friendship with Elvis regulated his weirdness a little. Elvis and Richie had been close too, but Buddy was around him so much more that he'd become a real brother to The King.

He was constantly letting him help when there was a simple repair to be done on a car at the garage, or taking him to the library when he needed a new book.

The time they'd spent surviving had just made them even stronger as a group, which was more of a need than a want. They were all that they had left. All of them would have been alone if not for one another.

"I feel like finding another Walmart, with a basement, and squatting there for the rest of my life," Buddy remarked.

"Spoken like true white trash, my friend."

"Have I told you to fuck off lately, Richie?" Buddy asked sweetly.

"They probably have them in Alaska," Richie added amiably, "Probably a bunch of them."

"Hard telling until we get there."

"You remember when we would've just pulled out a phone and looked it up?"

Buddy smiled at this. It was true that there had been such a time. Everyone had knowledge of everything in their back pockets. You had only to swipe your fingertip along the surface of a touchscreen to answer any question you might have had.

That was one of many things that all of them, the entire human race it seemed, had taken for granted. He nodded his head toward Elvis.

"He's the lucky one out of the three of us. Never even
had
a phone. Didn't want one," Buddy said, "The only times I ever saw him touch one of the damn things is that time I downloaded Pacman. He killed the battery every time he got hold of it."

"Blame him?" Richie asked with a chuckle, "I'd kill me some Pacman right about now."

"Not if Elvis knew you had it. I'm pretty sure he'd grab it and run like hell."

"You guys talkin' about me?" Elvis asked them.

"Oh yeah. We were just saying that you might be the last man on earth who can jerk off with either hand," Buddy said.

"You think so?" Elvis asked, the look on his face shocked and serious.

A response was impossible, as was continuing to walk. Both Buddy and Richie were doubled over with laughter. Each tried to say something in return, but couldn't get anything out that would be understood.

Elvis decided to give them the finger and say nothing more. Before long he was laughing right along with them. It was a good moment.

***

Once they'd gotten past their laughing fit they'd been able to find their pace again with Richie taking the lead.

The road had become hilly, small inclines and declines mixing with short flat areas and blind curves. Normally curves were approached with caution and blind ones were avoided completely if it was possible. There wasn't much of a choice on their current route, so they'd started taking the blind turns, too.

The moon was full and the stars bright, so they didn't have flashlights on to show their position. Nothing made a sound as they came up on a turn that Richie didn't care for.

There were cars blocking the roadway, broken and dirty thanks to their environment, and a shopping center blocked the next stretch of asphalt from view.

Strip malls, like this one, were always frightening. There were plenty of places for someone to hide in the abandoned storefronts to go along with the fact that they were just spooky, like small ghost towns with broken windows and angry spirits.

They hunkered behind an old Buick with Montana plates and busted tail lights. Richie scratched at the stubble on his freshly shaven face, grateful for the grooming they'd all been able to do recently, and looked at the curve. Buddy's eyes were on the shopping center, magnified by thick lenses that were looking a bit worse for wear.

Richie wondered if he had an extra pair of the things or if he'd just be blind if they were destroyed. He thought about asking, but re-focused his attention instead. There were more important things to worry about.

Elvis had decided that a closer look was in order, shed his pack, and untied a pair of binoculars from the side of it. He'd picked the new pair up during their rest and had been eager to use them for something other than looking down long stretches of road at nothing.

The moment the lenses were to his eye lids, he sucked in a breath. Elvis handed the field glasses to Buddy and gave Richie a harried look.

"Somethin' moved." Elvis said as Buddy searched the area ahead of them, turning his head this way and that.

"Buddy?"

"I don't see shit, Richie," Buddy answered, "Where Elvis?"

Elvis duck walked until he was behind Richie and put his hands on the other man's shoulders, aiming him to the area he'd been looking at. A few seconds later Buddy handed the binoculars to Richie.

"Don't know, man. I don't see anything," Buddy told Elvis.

"Sure you saw something?" Richie asked as he scanned the area.

"Somethin' moved," Elvis reassured them.

"A person, you think?" Buddy asked.

"Don't know. Somethin' moved."

Elvis' face had gone pale, making his hazel eyes stand out intensely. Buddy was grinding his teeth and considering the situation. Richie kept looking, but saw nothing.

Finally, he took the things away from his eyes and looked down at this watch. They were two and a half hours away from sunrise, which made time and how they used it incredibly important. They would have to be quick about making a decision, or risk being caught outside.

The group liked to be secure and camping at least an hour before the day actually started. Delays were like flying bullets to them. Both could get a man killed.

"Here's what we have. If we keep walking, get past the curve with no trouble, we'll probably come up on a neighborhood in half an hour, but we'd have to get moving. Otherwise it's an hour back track to that place we passed earlier. That cuts it a little closer than I like, but it's doable," Richie explained, looking hard at both of his companions, "I'm for the easy walk if we can get by it. Buddy?"

"Shit," Buddy said, looked down at the asphalt for a moment in consideration, before looking back up, "The curve."

"Elvis?"

Elvis stared at the cars blocking the road ahead of them. This wasn't anywhere near the first time they'd come up on a road packed with cars, but it
was
rare. When people were afraid of going outside, they didn't really try to drive anywhere. He shook his head as if he was going to choose the house they passed, but looked at Buddy and Richie without saying anything for a full minute.

"Don't like it, but don't wanna get a sunburn," Elvis told them, "How do we get by, Richie?"

Richie looked at his watch again, followed the thin hand as it ticked seconds off of their lives, and began to talk.

***

It was surprising, to Richie at least, that they hadn't run into more trouble on their journey than they had. Sure there had been problems finding food, water, and shelter, but there hadn't been many people around them, so there hadn't been altercations for the most part. In fact, when they
did
happen the confrontations hadn't really gotten violent. Excluding what had almost happened at the Dundel home there hadn't really been much of a human threat at all.

Richie had been waiting for the other shoe to drop, for their luck to run out for so long, that when it did he wasn't surprised in the least. Being prepared for such an event was another thing entirely.

The plan was simple. Richie would take point, darting between cars as he went, up to the open area just before the turn. Elvis and Buddy would spread out staying to either side of him without bunching up and giving someone an easy target on the three of them. They would continue this pattern, slowly, until they'd completely cleared the turn

. Weapons would be drawn and ready to fire, but they would leave their packs hidden under the vehicle they'd started out behind. Once all was deemed safe one of them, most likely Elvis, would go back for their supplies. If everything went smoothly, they wouldn't lose more than fifteen minutes of darkness.

It started out in just that manner, Richie jogging in a crouch along the center line of the road, taking cover from time to time at the front or rear of a broken down vehicle. Elvis and Buddy were doing the same along the shoulders and staying hidden well enough.

Richie was becoming more and more at ease. He was starting to believe that Elvis had been mistaken about spotting movement, as he rounded the first part of the turn. His coach gun was cocked and ready, but he didn't think he'd be firing it at anything.

When the first burst of gunfire filled the air, cutting the wind around Richie's crouched form, he just stopped. He stood for at least three seconds, not comprehending what had happened. The only thing that saved him from being mowed down on the spot was their attacker's inability to aim. If he'd been a little better with his rifle Richie would've ended his journey abruptly.

Instead of dying, he dove back and to his right to the cover provided by an old Toyota Corolla. He could only hope that his friends had been so lucky, or hadn't been fired upon as he had.

The sound of semi-automatic gunfire stole the silence of the night. The only other thing that could be heard was the impact of the bullets on vehicle bodies and the breaking glass of windows.

For the moment, Richie could only make a smaller target of himself. He crouched low, covering his head with his forearms and praying not to be caught by one of the fired rounds. He'd closed his eyes at first, but soon opened them to look for signs that his friends were okay.

He thought to shout for them, but knew that they wouldn't be able to hear him over the barrage that was being laid down before them.

All at once everything was quiet. Whoever had been shooting at them had either stopped to inspect the damage they'd dealt, or was reloading. Richie's mind was whirling with the possible actions to be taken along with the need to know if his group was safe. He chose to believe that Buddy and Elvis were fine, but couldn't be sure since they'd decided to stay quiet along with him.

He heard something hit the ground, a hollow metallic sound, from far in front of his hiding spot. He braced himself without thinking as bullets started flying again.

Fucking waste of ammo
, a part of his mind scolded the person or people firing on them.

He didn't think they were doing anything other than destroying busted down vehicles and hoping for a lucky hit on them. Richie was proven wrong when the asphalt next to where he was standing seemed to come alive.

He wondered how in the hell they were doing that from their position and promptly stopped worrying about it. Richie ran from his spot behind the Toyota, past the empty area between cars, and to the front grill of a BMW. He looked back as the ground exploded in the exact spot where he'd been squatting.

The firing stopped again, but he was sure he didn't have long to act this time. Richie stood up, his head popping up over the top of the hood to look for his friends. Looking to the right paid off with the image of Buddy hauling ass toward him. Looking left didn't help him to see Elvis at all.

Buddy stopped, abruptly, looking with wide eyes to where the attack had come from and fell backward on purpose to avoid a few badly placed shots. Richie and Buddy could at least see each other now. Elvis, though, was Richie's new concern. Where in the hell was he?

They waited through another burst of enemy fire, watching the ground for signs that their aggressor was firing low again. No asphalt was eaten on this round before the weapon ran out. Buddy ran toward Richie, his boots sliding along the pavement when he came to a crouch at the hood of the BMW.

"The fuck, man?" Buddy whispered, "Can you see em' anywhere?"