THE TRASHMAN (5 page)

Once again, she surprised me. No tears at all, just business to take care of. “Of course we will.”

“If she’s dead, don’t bring her back. I don’t want my last memory of her to be ugly.”

“How many men were there at the rest area?” Sam asked.

“I think five, but I’m not sure,” Jerold said.

“All of you be quiet and let me remember,” Jessica ordered. She used her arms to lower her body so she was lying on her back and closed her eyes.

Jerold pointed to his sister and put his finger to his lips.

A half minute later, she opened her eyes and sat up. Sam drew in a breath. Like me, he’d stopped breathing in order to be quiet.

“I remembered them running out of the building. There were four. That’s all.”

Jerold said, “She’s good at remembering things. There were four.”

I took her at her word, but had another question for her.

“Did you mother manage to shoot any of them?”

Jessica lowered herself to the concrete again. This time she began twitching and moaning. “Mama’s dead,” she muttered, but she didn’t sit up. She lay there so long I had to draw a breath in order not to pass out. There were tears again on her face as when she sat up.

“Mom shot two of them, one of them in the chest and the other one in his side down close to his belly. She got shot in the chest and then shot in the neck. Then Jerold was pulling me and jerked me to run and I didn’t see anymore. A lot of blood came out of Mama’s chest, from her heart, but as I was running away, I heard her shoot two more times. I heard other guns, too, but hers sounded different.”

Jerold scooted over to his sister and put his arm around her shoulders. “Don’t see anymore,” he said to her.

“Kids, I want you to wait inside the building. If you’re able to look, we came to find a generator.” I motioned to Sam to follow me and led him to the Durango.

“How do you want to handle this, Ralph?” he asked as we walked.

I stopped beside my Dodge. “Drive as close as we can to the rest area without being seen and then sneak the rest of the way. They may have left, but if they haven’t, I hope we catch them outside so we can snipe ‘em. If we don’t see them outside, we’ll have to go in like SWAT. We can’t take much time here because I don’t like the fact we left our families unguarded.”

“Me either. Keep your mask on. I’m riding in front with you.”

There was no conversation during the short ride back to the freeway. My thoughts were on how quickly a gang of highwaymen destroyed a good family, and worried that such people could be in the neighborhood of our families.

A quarter mile after entering the roadway from the on ramp, I saw a sign stating the rest area was one mile ahead. I noted we were on an upgrade and broke the silence.

“I’ll stop short of the crest of the hill and we’ll sneak through the trees.”

“I’m glad we’re close. I’m beginning to get the willies.”

“You any good with the rifle?” I asked.

“About as good as I am with a chainsaw.”

“Jesus, Sam.”

“You asked. How about you? You did a stint in the Guard.”

“I’m not a freaking marksman, but if we can get within a few hundred feet without being seen, I should be able to hit a man-sized target. I’ll take the rifle. You carry the shotgun.”

Because of logging, the forests in Southern Georgia are mostly pines with a healthy undergrowth of vines and brush and plenty of thorny brambles. Our coats and jeans protected us for the most part, but some of the longer thorns got through. Thirty minutes of struggle brought us to the border of the clear space of grass and asphalt surrounding the rest area. The actual building was a hundred yards further on.

We crouched behind the thick foliage at the edge of the trees.

Sam said, “I don’t see anyone.”

I raised the Remington to survey the building through the scope. I lowered the rifle and nudged Sam to take it.

“I don’t see anyone alive, but check the pavement beside the blue Caravan parked in front. Not this side, but look under it to the other side.”

Sam peered through the scope and fumbled with the focus. “I see two white men and a black woman. I think I can see a foot that belongs to someone else, but the other bodies are in the way to see if it’s their dad. I reckon Jessica’s memory thing works.” He lowered the rifle. “Do you think the other two men took off?”

“The foot probably is their father’s, but let’s not assume anything. There are only four cars and one big-rig in the front lot, none in the back. I checked around the vehicles with the scope. The window on the driver’s side of the big-rig is shattered and the driver is slumped over the steering wheel. If the other killers are here, they’re inside. There’re no windows on this side of the building. When I say ‘go’, run to the green Chevy and hide behind it. I’ll be right on your heels.”

The Chevy, the closest car to our position, was over a hundred feet away. I wasn’t on his heels. Sam had some speed in his legs. I reached the car and squatted beside him.

“Use your eyes and I’ll use the scope again. Let’s check the area before we go the next car.”

I was fairly certain we were alone in the parking area, but like I’d told Sam, I wasn’t assuming anything.

At the next car, we paused mostly to catch our breath. We were both hyperventilating, not just from running, but from the adrenaline pumping into our blood.

“I was hoping we wouldn’t have to go inside to get them,” Sam said.

“Me, too. Look, this rifle won’t be much use inside. What are you most comfortable with, the shotgun or pistol?”

“The shotgun.” He unsnapped the stay on his holster and passed the Beretta to me.

I checked to make sure the safety was off. “Let’s move to the next car, and after that we’ll stop for minute to plan our rush.”

We stood. Sam immediately ducked back down, yanking me with him.

“A man just walked out of the building,” he whispered.

I ventured a peek over the hood. The man, a tall, thin blond haired, middle-aged guy was striding toward the Chevy. He went to the other side where the bodies lay, and squatted out of sight.

I laid the pistol on the asphalt, gathered the rifle, and then stood, using the hood to brace my arms holding the rifle. I’d barely centered the scope on the car when the man stood, his face squarely in the crosshairs. I saw a hole appear in his forehead at the same time I felt the kick of the rifle. I’d fired without thought.

Sam stood. “Shit, did you shoot him?”

“In the head.” My voice sounded strange in my ears.

“Are you alright?” Sam asked.

“No I’m not alright. I just killed a man. There’s one more in the building. Watch the door and give me a minute.”

“What if he goes out the rear door?”

“Jeez, Sam. Watch everywhere. Be ready to shoot.”

I knelt beside the car and took deep breaths to calm myself. I stood back up, but still felt shaky.

“What do we do now?” Sam asked.

“We’ve lost the element of surprise. I want this over. I’m rushing the door. You follow me in, but keep back a ways and cover me.”

“When?”

I retrieved the pistol and said, “Right now.”

I took off for the door, knowing Sam’s speedy legs would have no trouble catching up. There were double doors at the entrance. I shoved through them. Right there on the tiled floor, below a large map on the wall, laid the other man. I stopped so sudden that Sam ran into me, almost knocking me to the floor.

Sam brought up the shotgun but I put my hand on the barrel to stop him from shooting. The man was on his side staring at me. I could see his hands. He wasn’t armed.

I moved cautiously to where he lay. Worried about the possibility he had the plague, I stopped short of what I hoped was spitting distance. He, too, was a blond, but older than the one I shot outside. His coat was off and rolled to make a pillow for his head. The side of his shirt that I could see was colored with blood mixed with an ugly brown fluid. With the pistol pointed at his chest, I went to my knees to speak.

“Whew, you stink. Bullet must have torn all through your guts. Are you feeling good about killing people now, you murdering bastard?”

“Fuck you, shithead. I guess you killed my brother since you’re here and he’s not.”

“Your brother? All I saw out there was a rabid dog that needed to die.”

“Aren’t you a clown?”

“Nope, you and your bunch are. Three grown men with guns, shot by an unarmed woman. She killed two of you straight up and left you as good as gone.”

I stood and stared at him. Cleaned up, he could have been anyone’s neighbor.

“Why’d you mess with that family?”

“Why not? There isn’t any law except for the gun. I’m as good as dead and you’re a killer same as me, same as my brother. Sooner or later someone will kill you. That’s what we have now.”

I shook my head. “No, you’re scum and deserve to be dead. The mother and father you killed out there were good people. I’m your judge and I find you guilty.”

I began to raise the pistol, but Sam used the shotgun. With only ten feet to travel, the birdshot didn’t spread much, but it spread enough to turn the man’s face into raw meat.

I turned to say something to Sam, but he was bent, hands on his knees. He opened his mouth, spewed a single, long stream of vomit, and then began retching up small amounts that dribbled to the floor.

Instead of chastising him for firing the shotgun without warning me, I told him I’d be waiting outside. As I turned to leave, I saw a pile of weapons and other items to the side of the entrance door. I carried six pistols and three long guns to the Durango. By the time I opened the rear hatch and laid them into the rear compartment I heard Sam call from the door of the building.

“You want the rest of the stuff? There’re some bags full of canned food and other bags full of clothing.”

I shouted back, “The food, yes. No clothing. Check for ammo.” While he did that, holding my breath, I relieved the first man I shot of the pistol he had tucked into his belt.

A glance at the children’s mother confirmed she was indeed shot in the heart and neck. She had another wound that happened after the kids ran, a hole in the center of her forehead. The blackened marks around it meant she’d been shot point-blank.

The gut shot man inside must have been the one Jessica saw in her remembrance of the event. The chest shot man was on the pavement near her parents, but the other dead highwayman had a hole in his temple. There were no weapons at the scene. The blond I’d shot must have collected them.

I heard footsteps. Sam was headed to my Durango carrying a heavy canvas bag, holding it against his abdomen with both arms.

I arrived at the open hatch at the same time he did.

“Tell me you’re carrying a bag full of ammunition.”

“Nothing but. All sorts of calibers in here, some loose, but most of it in boxes.”

“That’s good, because they sure had a mix of weapons.”

“Yeah, I see that. I want the Bushmaster.”

“It’s yours. Come on, let’s get the bags of food, and get out of here.”

“What about the generator and the kids?”

“That’s what I mean. We need to take care of business and get back to your place. We’ve been gone too long already.”

“I meant, what are we going to do about the children?” he asked, tagging my heels back to the doors.

“We’re taking them with us,” I answered.

“What if they’re carrying the plague?”

“Grab a mask from the plastic bag and try not to breathe too much after we pick them up. By the way, mister, ‘I don’t want to shoot people’. What the hell’s gotten into you?

“God, I don’t know. When you declared him guilty, my finger twitched and the shotgun went off. I wasn’t even thinking about shooting him, it just happened.”

“Next time, think. You scared the shit out of me.”

I bent to look inside a bag before lifting it and the one next to it. Both were full of cans.

Sam looked into a bag. “This one’s full of money and jewelry. A lot of gold chains, too. I hope they took this from dead peoples’ homes.”

“Grab it. Is there any more food?”

“One more bag.” He scooped the two bags from the floor and followed me out.

I wasn’t sure how much good it would do, but before we left the building I had us scrub our hands with water just in case there were plague viruses on the guns and bags we’d handled.

*****

Jessica and Jerold heard my Durango arrive and came out of the supply store to greet us. I pulled to the curb close to where they stood. Jerold came to my side of the vehicle. I let the window down part way to hear him.

“You may as well drive around back to the loading dock. We found a few generators. Some were huge, but we put one on a cart that might fit in this van.”

Jessica was standing on the loading dock at an open bay. Jerold joined her as I backed the Durango up, leaving enough room to open the rear hatch. Sam and I muscled our way onto the elevated loading platform and bent to examine the generator they’d chosen.

“I’m sure this will fit.”

Sam said, “It’s a diesel. I can smell the fumes. Probably a rental since it’s fueled. Five thousand watts will just about run everything in the house.”

I eyeballed the dimensions of the machine. “Turned sideways, we could fit two of these in the rear compartment. Was there another one like this?” I asked, turning to speak to the youngsters.

“Two more,” Jessica said. “That thing’s heavy. Jerold and I had a hard time getting it onto the cart. It’ll take all of us to load it off this edge.”

I nodded in response, and tugged one of the lifting handles. “I’d say at least two hundred pounds. We’ll load it in a couple minutes. I need to tell you and your brother what we found at the rest area and I need to ask some questions.”

I tackled the rough part first. They accepted the news that their parents were definitely dead with such calm that I had to comment on it. Jerold responded.

“Dad gave us a talk before we left the basement, actually several talks. He told us there’d be a good chance we’d all get killed once we left, but we had to leave. Mom did, too, and she told us if something happened, if trouble found us and she said ‘run’, we’d better be running. She told us the future was with us, with young people.”